This One
by the Dah
Summary: Coming of age story following the adventures of a boy and his - not quite - an imaginary friend during the chaos that leads to the Meiji revolution. Or rather… a different take on the 'battousai' dilemma.
1. Afternoon Discussions

_AN: This is a canon compliant character study fic, but with an alternate base theory. The storytelling will be slow and introspective, as I am mostly interested in character growth and origins, and wrote this story to satisfy my own curiosity during last summer._

_The storyline follows Kenshin's life all the way from 1856 to 1868, and I am going to have fun poking holes to fanon facts and introducing alternate theories to fill the gaps canon left us with. Regardless of artistic freedoms, the key canon events will be as true as they have ever been, but occasionally I am referencing OVA over manga - or even making a fusion of sorts._

_Also, I am attempting to keep this remotely historically accurate, however occasionally the paint of historical facts is very thin indeed, mainly resulting from my erratic sources._

_Concerning the dates, they all try to follow simple pattern of being western, but looking somewhat like moon calendar markings. So, for example, if the historical event happens on 8th of July, it would appear on the story as 'the eight day of the seventh month.' The years will follow Japanese era system, but I will provide alternate means of catching up with them, either in the prose or in author's notes._

_Special thanks for my dear friend Chiera for being invaluable help with beta-reading and correcting my dyslexic errors kindly. (The pen might be mightier than the sword, but I seriously doubt the boy picked up a word here.) Or even better one, (I cannot see how they can play with desserts there, surely you mean cones, not scones?)_

_Let's see what happens._

* * *

**This One, Prologue - Afternoon Discussions**

"Whoop!"

An enthusiastic giggle.

"Weee!" Sounded a high voice proclaiming its simple joy to everyone within the backyard, a sound of stumbling, the voice changing the pitch lightning fast from joy to distress; "Ohmp –"

Kenshin glanced up from his laundry chores, his experienced eyes immediately zeroing onto the playing three years old toddler. There was no crying, he noted with relief and deliberately relaxed the tense muscles – instinctively ready to spur into action in the briefest glance of true danger. He let the corners of his mouth turn up into a smile; the red covered head of his son was already bowed down, absorbed in another interest.

It wasn't always easy for a parent to recognize the tones of their child's distress. He had been learning to be better at it lately, but in the beginning he had been a bit overprotective, perhaps. At least Kaoru found it to be so.

Speaking of Kaoru, she was finally coming home for the day. The creaking of the gate's hinge's, the light footsteps – it could be no one else. The small ache, caused by her absence, left like it had never been there. He pushed his hands back to the water and continued scrubbing the linens in the washtub. _Better get this done, so he could start on the dinner. She would be hungry after a trip to the city center. _

At times he couldn't believe he had this happiness. It was all thanks to her, Kaoru - his wife of four years, who had in short order become the cornerstone of his life and the anchor of his sanity. She had given him so much; home, love, _family_ – a life he had always wanted, but hadn't truly believed he could ever deserve.

He frowned; her footsteps held a tinge of hesitation. That was unusual. She usually wasn't hesitant about anything…

"Kenshin-"

Her beautiful blue eyes were slightly tinted by worry - surely there couldn't have been bad news?

"Is something wrong?" He asked, immediately aware of her mood and seeking to abase it.

A loud exhale, and then she sat down next to him. "No, nothing, actually. I guess I am just making it out to be worse than it is by worrying too much. Doctor Gensai said that it most probably is just normal children's behavior, even common! Hmmph! You were right not to worry, love."

"There is nothing wrong with worrying, it just shows you care." He tried to console her. Through her speech, both her voice and face had gone through a multitude of expressions. So like her: kind, loving and fierce.

"Thank you, but I feel foolish. Going out there, all worried mother that I am, and then Doctor Gensai says that it is completely normal! How could I have known? Ayame-chan and Suzume-chan never did anything like that! By my understanding anyone talking to themselves, seeing things that aren't there - it just sounds so, so… like they aren't living in this world." Her voice faded into ashamed whisper.

She had been taking this harder than he had realized, and a flash of guilt struck him. "Those things that you speak of…" the word 'insanity' went without a mention, putting it in harsh words wouldn't help her any, "One has seen such people, and mostly it seems that they had seen or experienced something horrible to break them. Kenji has had everything he has wanted, love, family… it would be – unlikely…"

Her brilliant blue eyes sparked in flame and she growled; "I know that! Even Doctor Gensai told me that!" And just like that her annoyance wilted, and she blushed, turning her face away "Sorry, it's not your fault. I, I… No – Kenshin… why didn't you worry? Even for a minute, ever since Kenji introduced his imaginary friend to us, you have been unflappable about this. And I know you are even more protective of Kenji than I am… how could you be so sure?"

Her eyes held no anger, no accusation… just an honest curiosity. The dark cloud above her had lifted, like it had never been there. The wonders of her sparking temperament never ceased to amaze him.

He smiled at her, his heart flooding with tender warmth for her. She truly was his heart and soul. Glancing at the playing child under the maple tree, he considered his answer. It wasn't that he hadn't thought the same horrible options through that Kaoru had, but there had been a bone deep certainty – old as he was, or nearly so - that whatever it was that his son was speaking to wasn't causing any harm. Seeing his child's happy, almost proud face had just cemented that feeling into a place.

He took the linen out of tub, wringing it out of excess water, thinking how to answer.

"I guess I never told you…"


	2. It's not funny anymore

**Chapter 1 - It's not funny anymore**

The boy was wandering towards the mountain again.

Mother used to yell at him for doing so.

He hadn't listened all that much. The mountain was a forbidden place, thus for his mind it was an interesting place. A new place. And like all little boys, he liked new things. And forbidden things.

Things his mother used to yell at him for liking.

Such as frogs.

Mud.

Nettles.

He kicked the ground, idly. Squeezed his fist tight in helpless anger, trying to avoid the memories – but like the inevitable summer rains; they came and swept him over.

His brothers had liked those things too. The three of them used to play in the mud together and come home filthy. Mother would yell at them for doing so. Father, though, would just shake his head and tell her to let the boys be boys, while they were still too little to help out in the field.

Then his oldest brother got old enough to be useful.

And only two boys were left to entertain themselves with the meager things they could forage near the house. Those odd findings were then used to build whatever was needed to make the imaginary games more real.

After the harshest winter was over, mother got fat again. Father happily told them that soon they would have another sibling to play with.

But at the early spring season… mother got sick and the baby died before being born.

The boy didn't understand all that much - but he was sad all the same, because mother was sad. And father too. It was not easy to play when everybody in the house were sad.

But not a moon after the baby had died, mother got sick again. She puked the food up right at the dinner! Second brother joked that it was because the food was so bad and she, too, had finally realized that. It was a pretty mean thing to say, the boy thought. But all the three brothers laughed. _It was kinda funny…_ even though the barfing was disgusting.

However, when mother couldn't keep any food in her stomach at all... it got scary.

Father told the brothers to go to sleep. But he had a wild look in his eyes and as mother didn't get any better, he put on his coat and went to find the doctor. By this time, it was becoming clear to the boys that there was something wrong with mother. Something really, really wrong. The oldest brother went to help her. She needed someone to hold her up while she barfed. Mother said she was thirsty. The second brother went to get some water from the well and the boy followed him. _It was kinda exciting to be up so late…_ _the very first time he was allowed to be so!_ But, but… mother was so sick, she was sweating and pale – it didn't feel like he should be happy about anything. Guiltily the boy glanced at the second brother, whose eyes were glazed with barely concealed tears.

Mother was moaning, too tired to speak reassuring and calming words at them and tried to reach for more water. He kept filling her mug, but it seemed useless -she _couldn't_ keep anything down… the little she could drink, she was puking up right after.

It wasn't funny. It had ceased to be funny a long time ago. There was something squeezing the boy's throat and he felt helpless – there was _nothing_ _he could do to help_.

The night just continued.

Then father came home with old Ine-sama. The old lady took one look at mother and yelled. She said really bad things and something like "cholera". The boy didn't know what that meant, but it sounded like something he was not supposed to say. Then old Ine-sama took a good look at the boys and told them to get outside and take a wash at the well. And wash the clothes too. She was really scary. So they did it, even though the well water was cold and it was middle of the night and they had no other clothes to change into.

Father came to tell them that they couldn't come in. So, he gave the boys blankets and said to find a good dry spot to sleep in. It was near summer so it was not cold, really. The three of them settled down under a maple tree and made camp.

It was hard to fall asleep. One could hear grasshoppers, birds… the sounds of the wildlife that lived near the mountain. The boy kept staring at the sky and listening to the sleepy snuffling of his brothers. The moon was large and pretty. But he was scared; of the nature's odd sounds, of the dark and for mother. He knew that it was not nice to be without food in his stomach. They all knew it, they had gone hungry before.

And mother had looked so sick.

It was too much, he had never been so afraid… the tears started falling and he hiccupped. He buried his face in the blanket, desperately trying to stay silent. If the brothers would wake - they would call him a crybaby again and he wasn't. He really wasn't.

He was big boy and big boys didn't cry.

* * *

The next morning, the brothers woke up far later than usual.

_Why hadn't father come to wake them up early?_ He always told them not to waste sunlight to sleep late, and came to wake the three of them every morning at dawn.

The boy rubbed his eyes.

Yawned.

Oh, there was father, but he looked really bad. Dark smudges colored the skin under his eyes, his face was drawn tight with tension and even the fists were clenched shut. There was this odd dropping feeling at the boy's stomach, and he didn't need to hear the words to know that mother wasn't any better. When father told them that they couldn't come in yet… not a single one of the three protested at it.

They made scarce and tried to set up a game to pass the time at the back of the house. The faint whimpers and moans and labored breathing trickled through the cracks of the wall, and it was impossible to see the cones with sticks as horses and weaved pieces of grass as samurai, or the mud and stones as castles.

Not long after the midday, there was silence.

They didn't need to hear father's loud cry and fists pounding on the floor to know that something was wrong.

That night – they all cried. Even father.

* * *

They slept outside all week. It was not exciting anymore. It was cold and clammy.

And still scary.

Then Old Ine-sama said that if they cleaned up the house real good, they could come to sleep inside.

It took lot of work, but they were able to move back into the house the very next day.

However, there were things that the boy didn't understand. _Why was mother not waking up?_ If he puked enough like mother had done, would he too fall asleep forever? The boy was confused, but everyone around him was so sad and angry that it took him a while to dare to ask about it all.

When he finally did, father sighed, rubbed his eyes clear with his palms and then told him about death. How the god gave them the time with the living, but one couldn't know how long that was, so every day should be spent well… and how after death, they would go to a better place if they had been good enough.

It didn't make much sense, but the boy decided with fierce pride that_ mother definitely had been good enough_.

No matter how little he understood, the boy didn't want to bother father any more about it and even his brothers were so distant… So, he stayed silent and thought about it all – just listening and watching his family relentlessly to make sure not a single one of them puked in secret, or did anything else suspicious.

_He didn't want to be alone._ And thus he became a pest glued to his father's or either of his brother's sides.

* * *

At the evening meal of one early summer night, the second brother puked. For a second, the boy didn't know if he was awake or asleep, because surely it was just another of the bad dreams he had been having all these weeks…

But the chill fear in his brother's eyes and the sweat gathering on his brow were so real, so much more real than anything the boy could dream on his own and reflexively he tried to touch the second brother's clammy skin. His reaching arm was swept away angrily… but the tiniest of touch had been enough. He started to shake and the tears were swelling in his eyes. He couldn't hear anything, not even father's yelling. There was something lodging at the back of his throat that made it impossible to protest when he was pushed aside, and father reached to help the sick son.

Then eldest brother was shaking him and yelling at him and only words he could make out of it all were "run" and "doctor" and he understood… and made a mad dash through the darkening summer night to the village and to the old Ine-sama's hut. He banged the door as hard as he could, but the one opening it wasn't the wrinkly weather parched face of the village doctor, but instead her daughter. She had a huge stomach and she, too, looked tired and busy – and not alone. Faint moaning of sick people in the hut could be heard from door and she told the boy that a lot of other people were sick and the village doctor couldn't come to help _yet_. So in the meanwhile, he should help the sick to drink as much as they could.

So the boy had to go back alone… without anything to help. Even the advice was useless. _What use it was to give water for the sick when they couldn't keep it down?_

At home it was exactly as bad as he had feared, and father yelled at him because he couldn't bring any help. Eldest brother had fetched the water already. For some reason the boy felt betrayed. He couldn't help. He was useless. So he went to sit by the wall, so that he wouldn't be in father's way – _it was the only thing he could do. _

Anxiously, they waited for the doctor.

It was nearing the bed time when the oldest brother got sick too. And not long after… even father.

And suddenly the boy was the only one capable of fetching the water.

_It didn't make him feel any better._

That night the boy did everything he could to help his family. They all were thirsty. They all needed to go to the outhouse, but they were too tired to do it on their own, and the boy was too small to help them go there. So he fetched them all buckets. Well, the family only had two buckets, so the eldest brother got the soup kettle.

The smell was really bad.

The boy was really too small to be of much help, but he tried. The constant whimpering, moaning and crying was horrible and it smelt worse _inside home_ than the outhouse during last summer's heat wave. The knowledge that it was his only remaining family making it was the scariest and most upsetting part of it all.

When it was too much, he went to cry outside so that his brothers wouldn't see. _He really was a big boy already and big boys don't cry._ It took a while to calm down a bit, and when he did, he could hear a higher voice – screaming. He didn't need to listen to know what it was about, the meaning was clear from second brother's creaking voice, _"I don't want to die!"_

At that moment he understood what "death" meant and hated it.

Anything he could do was useless, he finally realized. Even with the old Ine-sama's help not a moon ago – _mother had died just like this_. But doing nothing would be worse, so he went inside and helped them all to drink. And puke.

It was during the early morning that the noise got quiet and the second brother didn't cry anymore. The boy didn't know what to do.

Someone threw the door open.

It was the old Ine-sama.

She said a really bad word. Then she yelled him to get outside and take a bath and wash his clothes too. The boy did so even though he knew it wouldn't help any. Afterwards he sat down to wait near the door in his wet clothes, curling into a tight ball to keep warm.

Somehow he fell asleep.

When old Ine-sama shook him awake, he was not surprised to hear that his brothers were dead.

The old doctor let him in the hut, so he could talk to his father a bit. Father said that he was dying too. The boy knew that already, but was too tired to react anymore. For some reason, at that moment, the most memorable thing was the smell. At least the tortured noise was gone. But… somehow the silence was even more horrible.

And looking at his father's dim eyes and gaunt pale face – it seemed like the life was trickling away from the lively and invincible form of his father, who had been always there. Suddenly, the boy realized that he would be alone. _Just like in his nightmares._

Tears started to fall down his cheek but that was impossible, surely there were no tears left… and the large hand of his father swept the trickle from his cheek and the hoarse voice whispered; "Shinta – don't cry, big boys don't cry, eh? And – now… you have to be a big boy no matter what, because you will be alone. And small boys can't make it."

And the boy could do nothing, but to nod and rub his eyes clean. The snot was oozing from his nose and he tried to inhale all of it back in, but couldn't real well, so he wiped it with his sleeve.

Then father told him that he could live with old Ine-sama if he was helpful, and that the boy had to listen to the old doctor and do exactly as he was told. The labored words seemed to etch into his mind and when father asked him to swear to obey the old Ine-sama - _the boy did_.

* * *

Now that he was living with old Ine-sama, life was not exactly bad. In the corner of her hut, he had a place to sleep and he got to eat every day. But the old doctor didn't look at him or speak to him. Actually, old Ine-sama seemed happier if he was not near her. So he had a lot free time.

And nothing to do.

Perhaps it was inevitable that he took to wandering. First it was at the village, but soon it became the outskirts. He learned to stay away from the villagers, because no one seemed to talk to him. People would stare at him and whisper to each other. The boy would hear words like "demon", "foreigner" and "bad luck" and he thought that those words meant him. Before the sickness, people had occasionally said those things too, but they hadn't sounded so scary. Or maybe it was because the boy had been never alone before.

It felt bad being in the village. So he wasn't.

Slowly, the boy gravitated towards the mountain. He had always wanted to go there - still did. "_It is dangerous, you could get lost or hurt_," mother had said and forbidden all the brothers for going there.

But now, no one yelled at him for going further, for staying out too long. No one cared where he went. For some reason, that felt worse than anything else. It wasn't that he had liked when people yelled at him, but now that there was no mother to…

The boy sniffled, and rubbed the wetness from his eyes. He didn't look around and pointedly tried not to hear the whispers. He didn't want to be in the village. Or in the old Ine-sama's house where he was _lonely near the people_, who would stare but never speak _to_ _him._

Where he was not wanted_._

Perhaps it was curiosity or just the need to escape, that only a few weeks later he finally found the courage to wander into the forest covering the mountain slope.

He soon found out that it was easier to be _in the forest, alone._ The trees and critters, bugs and birds didn't stare at him. Well, they did but it was of the good sort – not the isolating looks and mutterings. Sometimes he would get lost in the woods, and it took him a long time to find his way back again. But he found really interesting things. Like weird mushrooms. Roots. Cones. Frog spawn. And worms.

Old Ine-sama didn't care where he had been, as long as he and his clothes were clean when he came back.

So, a routine was born.

* * *

One day he wandered to the east side of the mountain. The forest was thicker there, so he hadn't dared to go that way before. After some stumbles, interesting finds and mindless turns and countless steps, he found a big carved stone standing alone in a small clearing.

It was a really ugly stone.

It had carved lines like fangs and claws - and really ugly round eyes. He didn't know what it was supposed to be, but it was really, really interesting. He had never seen anything like it before. He liked it.

So of course he touched it.

It felt oddly cold to touch. Little hairs in the back of his neck stood up. It felt funny.

He laughed.

"I really like you!" Because… it was first time the boy had laughed since the sickness came.

The stone didn't answer. The boy wasn't surprised. He had never heard a stone talking, after all. But the coldness of the carved stone didn't feel nearly as harsh after that. Maybe it was because the stone had eyes and something like a face, that the boy sat down and started to chatter to the stone.

He was late to old Ine-sama's house that evening. So late, that the old lady remarked on it. It felt really good to be noticed. Usually Old Ine-sama didn't talk to him.

Maybe it meant that it was okay to stay away longer?

So he did.

* * *

After that, it was no wonder that the boy took to wandering to the stone often.

Being near it gave him funny feelings. And even though the stone was ugly, it wasn't scary anymore. Far from it – actually, it felt like it was something special, like it _his_. Somethingthat_ no one could take from him._ That no one knew that he even had. Like a special friend.

And like his brothers, who had been his only friends _before_… the boy talked to the stone.

He told it this and that, idle observations and thoughts, of his dreams and fears, complaints - of everything, really. He told the stone _these things_ that were on his mind, about which he could talk no one else to. And some other things, too. The boy just liked talking to someone that_ would listen to him no matter what_.

"No one likes me in the village. They say I am too small to be of use."

"Sometimes they call me bad luck. I don't know how I could change luck. But maybe I am bad luck because everyone but me died."

"We don't have much to eat. The harvest was good, Old Ine-sama told her daughter and I heard it. But she said that our lord Daimyo needs the rice too, and we have to give it to him for taxes. I don't know what those are, but if the lord is hungry, we should share. Mother used to tell me to share food with brothers when we had little. But does he need all of our rice? Because now we have been eating bark and roots too. Those taste bad."

"I miss brothers and mother. And father too."

"Old Ine-sama's grandson told me today that I am ugly because of my hair. And my eyes. I know that they are different but is different always ugly? I like red."

So the days went.

"Old Ine-sama told me that traders are coming soon and when they come, I will be going with them. I don't know why, but Ine-sama told me it was because the village has no food to spare for me. But traders would and I would live better if I went with them."

"I am scared of leaving. I don't want to leave you too."

'…so don't.'

At first the boy thought he had only imagined the sound. Stones couldn't speak. _But who else could it have been?_ Scared, he swiftly looked around but the clearing was empty, and the forest surrounding it didn't show anyone else. Still wary, he started to yell at the woods, told the voice to show themselves.

No one came.

After some mad scrambling around and causing ruckus, he finally calmed down and sat next to the stone. He felt a little bit silly for his actions, letting out a faint embarrassed giggle. It didn't lessen the funny feeling that he wasn't alone. He laid his hand down on to the stone to check he wasn't dreaming and suddenly the coldness was back! The boy shivered, and all the little hairs on his skin stood up.

'I could come with you.'

This time it was obvious that _it was his stone that was speaking._ The voice was quiet, like a whisper but not quite. Maybe it was just the boy, but the voice sounded really hesitant and lonely. And because of that… the boy, instead of getting scared like before, just wasn't anymore… _it was his stone._ His friend. So he laughed; delighted that he was being talked to.

Now his stone was almost like a real friend!

"I want to take you with me." The boy told the stone. But then he frowned… "You are heavy. How could I carry you?"

'I am not the stone. I only live in the stone.'

"…oh," of course, that made more sense than speaking stones… but if the friend was only living in the ugly stone- "you could live in something smaller?" The boy asked, his mind whirring. What could he carry, where could his friend live if not in the stone? There were smaller stones but they were not good ones and his friend's house should be something different, have a meaning to it.

'Not something smaller. It needs to be something special.'

The boy didn't answer. Of course his friend's house would need to be something special. A wave of terror rode over him, he couldn't think of anything suitable. _What if he had to leave his only friend behind?_ He wasn't strong enough to carry the stone! And nothing around seemed right - it needed to be special, but maybe he could find something good that could walk on its own…

"Could you live inside a living thing?" the boy asked, half afraid of what it would mean, but the idea was already taking hold.

'…yes.'

The boy swallowed. He wouldn't leave his friend, no matter what, but the only special thing he could carry that was large enough -

"Come live inside me, then."

'Yes.'

The coldness rose from the stone, flowed where his hand still touched it… and started to flood inside him. It didn't feel funny anymore. It didn't feel good at all. His hand was freezing. But he couldn't let go, couldn't leave his friend behind. The coldness continued to spread inside him, _and it hurt. _It was worse than being pushed into snow and getting stuck under the brother's snow castle when it had collapsed last winter - and it didn't stop, it didn't stop –

Then he didn't feel anything at all.

* * *

When the boy woke up, it was dark. Groggily he rubbed his eyes, trying to clear his vision… and yawned. It didn't help much. The forest around him was scarily silent... he couldn't hear a thing over his loudly thundering heart. The shivers started to dance on his skin when he realized; _it is night and I'm alone at the mountain. No one knows where I am…_

He had never been so far from village at night.

Could he find his way back?

And what would Ine-sama say of him for being so late? _Maybe she would yell at him…_ yes, she would definitely notice him then. Cheered, he started to calm down and finally managed to hear sounds of the forest; leaves rustled in the faint wind, there was hooting of the owls, the critters' scrabbling and the bugs were buzzing and whirring.

He wasn't too scared of the sounds anymore, even though he alone at the mountain and far away from the village. After all, no animal had ever tried to hurt him. If he made enough noise, the wildlife steered well away, in his experience. Dark forest _wasn't so bad. _He had been coming here for weeks and he knew his way back. Kinda. He was pretty sure he knew it. But the forest looked different in the dark. _Had that tree been there before? _

The path among the bamboo trees was slippery. The boy fell down time after another, and soon his knees and hands very full of scratches and bruises. Ow. He didn't cry, though, because he was a big boy now and big boys don't cry. But in the darkness, the doubts kept constantly creeping back into his mind. _What if he didn't find his way home?_

He swallowed.

_Don't think about it._

However slow going it was, the boy started finding his balance and his eyes adjusted to the darkness… and then he didn't fall so often. The moonlight gave him some direction, too. _Just find a way down the slope. _The village was on the way down, he knew, because coming here he always had to climb up.

Little by little, the forest started to grow more familiar… and then he saw the huts in the distance. It was near morning, and faint light of the rising sun had started to lick the tree tops at the eastern slope of the mountain behind him.

He laughed in sheer relief; he had found his way back!

The rising light made his sorry state clear and he cringed guiltily. Ine-sama would be so mad. _But maybe it wouldn't be so bad if he washed up first?_ Before, the doctor didn't care as long as he and his clothes were clean...

"You are late, boy," called Ine-sama's croaky voice when he slipped inside in his damp clothes. She did sound angry. He froze like a stunned rabbit, and he covered in preparation of a tongue lashing, but a part of him was eagerly waiting for it. _Someone would notice him. A person would see him and talk to him. He wouldn't be a lonely ghost in her house, just for tiny moment. _Because being yelled at meant that someone cared.

But when the ruckus didn't start, he hesitantly opened his eyes -

Old Ine-sama wasn't alone.

There was a man in the hut too, one that he didn't know. The stranger was tall and hairy in the face. It reminded the boy a little bit of father in the mornings when he had came home late smelling funny. But this man's face hair was dark and long, it made him look scary.

"This is the boy?"

"Yes. An orphan. Will he do?"

The man nodded faintly, frowned… "Survivor of the epidemic?"

"Aa."

"Looks somewhat sorry. I don't take sickly ones." the stranger said and made a motion to his direction.

Old Ine-sama nodded at the scary man, and told the boy to stand up straight.

Then the stranger came to look at him. After an unnerving long look, the man commanded gruffly; "Turn around, kid."

It made shivers run through the boy's back and all the hairs in his skin to stand up… he was about protest, but Ine-sama looked at him nastily, and the boy couldn't help but to swallow the words and do as he was told. _He didn't like it_, but the village doctor was scary and father had told him to obey the old Ine-sama.

So he did.

Even when she told him to swirl around for the man, even when he was touched all over… the man tested his thin arms and legs, told him to open his mouth… it felt like he was being checked for something. Not unheard of; didn't doctors do things like this? But neither of them spoke to him, and it all made it feel distant.

"How old is the boy?"

"Seven summers."

Then it was over, and the boy took a few steps backwards – trying to put some distance to the scary man. He didn't make it far, before the man nodded and grumbled an agreement, seemingly coming to a decision. It was a deep sound, something alike a bear's, the boy thought.

"How much you want for him?

"How much are you willing to pay?" Old Ine-sama countered with the same voice she used when haggling for a best price from a vegetable seller.

The boy didn't understand much of their following haggling, but words like; "foreign", "young", "training", "Kyoto", "teahouse" and "servitude" were said. He was still wondering over what they were haggling about, because it sounded like they were talking about him… but how could that be? One couldn't sell people, not that the boy knew about.

However, before he could really think it through, the haggling was over and the man was giving old Ine-sama money. Then the doctor walked to him, took him by the shoulders and looked at him in the eyes for the first time since his father's death. Her eyes were dark and her gaze was hard. "Boy. Go with Hideo-san. He will look after you. Do as you are told and you will live an easier life."

With those words, she rose and turned her back to him.

The boy couldn't move. His eyes were wide open, and he was shaking… and couldn't stop it or the following shivers. The realization hit hard. Never before had he felt as lonely as at that moment in the hut with three people in it. Or two, for there were only two adults and apparently only adults were people.

"Come, boy." The scary man Hideo-san called at him with his bear voice.

The boy didn't know what to do. He didn't know the scary man and didn't like him… but father had made him swear to do as old Ine-sama told him.

_But she had turned her back to him, denying him her home and protection…_

He swallowed.

…and after a brief pause, followed the man.


	3. The roles we play

The scary man Hideo bought people. He had a few other men that worked for him, but mostly, the boy's travelling companions were girls. All the girls were older than him, but they were really pretty. For some reason, maybe it was because he reminded them of their little brothers, the girls liked him. They would talk to him and look after him. It was like travelling with a lot of older sisters. He had never had any, so it felt quite nice.

With many people looking after him, the boy wasn't quite as lonely and maybe that was the reason why he didn't want to think about the night in the forest when the stone had spoken to him. To be truthful, the boy was becoming quite sure he had dreamed the whole thing. He knew that stones didn't speak and no one lived inside a stone.

_Even a special carved stone. _

_But if his friend had been real… had it successfully moved into its new home or not? _

The boy was unsure which option he feared more. _Don't think about it._ If his friend was real and with him, it would speak to him when it could. After all, moving to a new home could take time, right?

And the boy was tired. Travelling all day long was a new thing. Travelling with a caravan was full of new things. But, oddly, the boy couldn't find a reason to care or to explore like normal. He was just too tired to think. All he could do was to walk and eat and sleep. _Too tired to worry._

And the boy had quite a lot of worries. Like being owned. Like a kettle. Or a bucket. Actually, though he was scared at first… it wasn't all that bad. It was, on some level, better than living with the old Ine-sama. At least he was being noticed in a good way, mostly. He just needed to do as he was told, which was; "walk there", "follow that girl" or "eat that." Easy things. So the boy learned not to be so afraid.

Maybe everything would turn out well.

The passing days were filled with endless roads, hills, forest and mountains in the horizon. Putting one foot in front another, staring at the dusty or muddy ground. _Being alone with his thoughts._ He had found out that he really didn't want to talk to the other bought people. _Talking lead to knowing people, and that lead to caring about them._ The boy really didn't want to care for someone he would soon lose. Because, though he was young and didn't understand everything, he did understand that the scary man Hideo didn't buy people for himself. He bought them so that he could sell them again – like the travelling merchant that had come to the village every summer.

The caravan travelled from village to village, all along the autumn season. It was hard work, as they walked from dust to dawn every day, and didn't stop to rest too often. Even in the villages, they didn't linger. The boy's feet grew used to walking and the skin of his soles grew harder. He was not so tired anymore. Sometimes he wondered why there were no other boys among the bought. Or for what purpose they all were bought for. Maybe he should call them slaves, which was the correct word for them, as he had learned from listening in the conversations.

The girls noticed that he didn't speak and didn't think much of it. They still looked after him, always saved him something to eat, saw that he had a dry place to sleep. Sometimes they would brush his hair and wonder why he didn't want to speak. They thought that perhaps didn't speak the same way as they, because he looked different. The boy let them wonder. He didn't want to care. _Caring hurt too much._

His friend didn't talk to him either. Maybe his friend didn't like its new home and had left him. Or maybe the boy had imagined the whole thing. After all, no one lived in rocks.

But then the scary man Hideo bought sisters Akane and Sakura… and their friend Kasumi, who was a little bit older.

Kasumi reminded the boy of mother.

It had been months since mother had died. A whole season. But seeing the older girl, Kasumi, who smiled like mother… it made him feel like they all had died just yesterday. And Kasumi saw the boy fighting the tears that were forming in his eyes and she knew. Without a question or explanation, she then took him to her arms and for the first time since the sickness - the boy cried.

* * *

The bond between the three girls was apparent and because Kasumi took the boy in…

Well.

They became sort of like a family.

Kasumi was the mother. Akane and Sakura were the older sisters. The boy was the baby. _He didn't have to be a big boy with them._ It felt good not having to be the tough one. Kasumi looked after them all and she was the one they all looked up to.

The boy told them about his family and the sickness and how the old Ine-sama had sold him. It felt good to tell someone how alone and afraid he had been. Kasumi told him that he was a brave boy… and that even the big and brave boys were allowed to cry when they were sad. So he did and then he didn't feel quite as bad. _As though, by letting the tears fall he was letting the sadness out._ He told this to the girls, and Kasumi hugged him and told him that he was a wise boy.

With his new-found almost-a-family, living with the slave caravan became easier.

It felt good to talk. It felt good having someone _to listen what he said and_ _to answer_. Even though the girls didn't always agree with what he said, it was okay. They were older and wiser than him, so of course they knew better.

So when he felt brave enough, he asked them about the things that he didn't understand. How could people be owned? Kasumi answered that only people who worked in red light districts could be owned. The work there was something not many wanted to do, but it paid really well and therefore it was agreed that girls could be sold to work for contracts.

_It didn't make any sense! Why should only girls be sold? But more importantly, what sort of work was it that only girls were good for it? _He didn't know many jobs but the farming, selling, and of course there were samurai and the doctors…

Kasumi frowned at him, pursed her lips and told him that it was work where one worked to make other people happy. _That didn't sound so bad._ He liked to make other people happy. It felt really good when people smiled at him and he knew that it was because he had done well. He told this to the girls. Kasumi just smiled at him and told what a good boy he was.

But something in that explanation still didn't feel right… _if only girls could be sold to that work, why was he there?_ He was not a girl. Kasumi fell silent at this and it was Akane who answered: "It's because you are pretty like a girl". The boy didn't think so, and told them that. He could never be as pretty as Akane, Sakura and Kasumi.

The girls smiled at him for this. Then Sakura said: "You will be, when you grow older". Before the boy could yell about this latest horror, Kasumi interrupted them: "Girls are worth less than boys to the villages. They are easier to sell."

That couldn't be true. But Kasumi sounded so sure… _but it was just wrong._

So, the boy told them about all the people that he knew and respected that were girls. And how, in his experience, a_ll the really scary people were always girls._ Like mother who used to yell a lot at the brothers, making them scared like rabbits. Even father had feared mother when she yelled. Like old Ine-sama, who was so scary that the boy didn't want to spend any time with her. And there was even old Ine-sama's daughter, who was fat and very scary whenever he had seen her.

Akane and Sakura giggled at him for telling this. But Kasumi just looked at him, took him in her arms and told him to never change.

So.

The boy didn't always agree or understand the things his new almost-a-family told him, but it was okay. It was enough that they listened and answered the questions.

One day he dared to ask about carved stones and beings that lived in them. The girls laughed at him and told him that it must have been a spirit. Everything had a spirit in them, and people would honor the spirits and pray to them. Then the boy asked about being friends with spirits and Kasumi told to him that the spirits just listened, they didn't answer. But one could always, always talk to them.

He thought about this the whole evening, and it was when he was trying to fall asleep when he realized that he, too, had just believed and talked to his stone. So, most likely, it was a spirit that lived in the stone.

But could the spirit move to a new house?

This roused an argument between the older sisters the very next day. Akane thought that the spirits could change homes when they needed, whereas Sakura was of the opinion that spirits only lived in their homes and could never leave them. Kasumi didn't offer any opinion at all, just kept silent and stared at the road side while they walked.

_If the spirit could move easily_, the boy thought, it should be okay. But, what if the spirit hadn't been able to leave its home? It had hurt the boy when the spirit had switched. Maybe it had hurt the spirit too? If so, maybe it just needed time to recover. The boy bit his lip in worry. Neither of the options reassured him. He kicked the ground glumly. _But, what if… it just couldn't answer because the boy didn't talk to it anymore?_

It was a moment of realization and the boy stopped right there in the side of the road. Eyes wide, mouth wide open and his breath hitching as the crumbs of knowledge aligned and started finally to make sense. Spirits lived in things and people talked to them. Maybe they too would feel better when they were noticed? _He had hated to be ignored._ What if the spirits got better when people believed in them? What if he had hurt the spirit by leaving it alone?!

So, that night, as they stopped to rest, the boy went to sit alone for a bit. He told his new almost-a-family that he wanted to be alone for a moment because he felt sad and wanted to remember his real family. The girls looked hurt, but left him alone. He felt bad for lying, but this was important and the girls wouldn't have left him alone if he had told them the truth.

And he really needed to try to talk with his spirit-friend.

At first the boy tried it like he had always done, just talking aloud. But for some reason, he felt really silly talking like that. It was different before, he reasoned in the fit of nerves, because back then he had talked to the stone. Now there was nothing to talk to. He was there, sitting alone.

But how could he speak to his friend, now that it lived inside him? If he talked out loud, outside… could his friend inside hear him?

Maybe he needed to speak to his friend inside himself?

How could one speak inside himself, so that someone living inside would also hear him? The boy felt confused. But Sakura's and Akane's opinions had given him hope that his friend was real and just needed some help. The boy felt really bad for just leaving it up to his friend to contact him. If he could help, then he should do so. No matter how stupid it felt.

The boy tried a lot of ways of talking to himself, like talking to his hands, because the spirit had moved through his hands. Then he tried talking to his feet. Because, _didn't everything drop to the ground eventually?_ _Even the really small things?_ He didn't know how big his friend was, but he didn't think the spirit would be large. So it could totally live inside his feet. Then he tried whispering. He imagined himself talking inside himself.

It grew sillier from that.

And soon really, really complicated.

It was stupid, he decided after the latest attempt. He didn't want to think what the girls thought he was doing. _Maybe he should give it up for the night._ Why it was so hard? Earlier, when it had been just him and the ugly stone, it had been so easy. He couldn't understand why it felt so impossible now, when they were even closer with no stone between them.

The boy buried his face in the junction of his crossed arms. It was making his head hurt, all this thinking. _It shouldn't be hard. It really shouldn't._ He narrowed his eyes as another doubt struck him - _maybe it wasn't_. _Maybe he was just making it too complicated._ He had asked his spirit-friend to come live inside him, yes… but no one said that the spirit had a body in the world. No, the spirit had, at most, felt like a wave of coldness. So, if the spirit was just a feeling, it could be as large as needed – so living inside the boy it would be just the same size as the boy. Maybe he just needed to feel the spirit inside and think to that? So the boy concentrated. _The coldness._ His bum felt cold. No. That was not it. He tried to remember the feeling. It was the weird coldness. That had felt funny. That made the little hairs in the back of his neck stand. Did he feel anything like that?

And suddenly now that he knew what he was looking for… _he found it._

A sense of a presence, that felt just the same funny kind of cold that he remembered his friend feeling like. It was faint, but there.

So he sent a thought towards that feeling.

'Hello.'

Just a simple word. But just that one word made the presence shiver.

So, the boy tried again.

'I missed you. Are you hurt?'

The presence didn't answer, but it felt like it had. It grew slightly warmer and then it showed something to the boy.

It was images, of people the boy didn't know. Sometimes there were feelings attached. The feelings weren't nice at all. The spirit really didn't like the people it was showing to the boy. Pain. Anger. Hate. Disappointment. Jealousy. Then it showed a man dressed in a weird dress, singing something harsh in a tongue the boy didn't understand.

There was a carved stone. It was the stone! Their stone!

_An overwhelming feeling of entrapment. _

'That man trapped you in the stone?' The boy wondered.

The presence gave a warmer feeling, one that felt like mother patting him on the head when he was a good boy and gave a right answer to the question.

Then it sent more images.

Slowly, the boy tried to make sense of it all, tried to understand his friend who now shared his body.

'You were trapped because you didn't like people? And you were there a really long time? But you still felt bad? So you tried to give out that bad feeling to others, too?

The spirit gave the correct answer feeling again.

He could almost understand the spirit. Last winter, when the boy had hurt his arm, he too had tried to give out the hurt to his brothers by yelling, saying nasty things and trying to hit them. The boy had hoped that it would make his pain less. It didn't. Mother had scolded him for his bad behavior and told him that making others feel bad wouldn't help him any, it just made everybody feel bad. Only bad boys would try to make others feel bad. The boy wasn't a bad boy, was he? So he shouldn't behave so. The boy sent this memory to the spirit.

The spirit sent back a feeling of confusion.

The boy was just starting to try to explain the memory and his mother's wisdom to the spirit, because clearly the spirit hadn't had a good mother to tell it these things-

He felt someone shaking his shoulder.

It was Kasumi. She looked really worried.

"Shinta-chan, are you alright?"

And the boy smiled, nodded and said that he was better than he had been in a long time.

After all, he had an almost-a-family. Living with the caravan was not so bad. And most importantly: he had his friend back.

* * *

Thus a new routine was born.

During the day the boy walked, and when Kasumi, Akane or Sakura wanted to talk, he would ask about things, listen and walk some more. But when they stopped to rest and no one needed him, the boy would go to sit alone to talk to his friend who shared his body.

They didn't talk with words. No. For some reason the spirit wouldn't use words now. But it was okay. After all, how could one use words without a mouth? _Even the weird carved stone had had a face. _But they showed pictures – memories, to each other and commented on those with feelings.

The boy found that he didn't have much in common with his spirit-friend.

Actually, even the often giggling Sakura seemed to agree with the boy more than the spirit.

The spirit was angry. It didn't like people.

It was okay, because the boy didn't like people much either. But unlike the spirit, the boy knew that being sad and angry all the time was bad for you. The boy's mother had told him that.

So, he decided to share the memories of his mother with the spirit. It clearly didn't know the difference between being a bad boy and a good boy. And that one should always try to be a good boy. Now that the boy was a big boy, he could teach the spirit – just like his brothers had taught him, be an older brother.

It felt good not being the smallest anymore.

One time, Kasumi asked him why he was now always sitting by himself while they rested.

The boy smiled and told her that he was thinking and remembering.

Which was the truth - just not all of it.

The boy had tried to tell his almost-a-family about his friend. But while they had listened... they hadn't really believed him. Instead, Sakura had smiled at him and told it was nice that the boy had an imaginary friend.

The boy had asked what imaginary meant.

Akane told that it meant something that was not real.

The boy had almost grown angry and yelled in defense of his friend. _His friend was real, the boy knew it._ But he had tried to teach his new friend that it was not okay to be angry. Not all the time. And especially not over small reasons, like disagreeing over something. And the boy didn't want to be a bad example.

The spirit had no one to look after it. Only the boy.

Even the boy had had two brothers. And mother and father. So he could compare. But the spirit had just him.

So he just had to be a really good example.

Some days later, when the boy was going to sit again to the side alone, Kasumi asked if she could perhaps join him. He didn't know how to say no to Kasumi, so he just nodded and smiled.

They found a good spot on the side of the road. There was a small lake there.

Fireflies were flying over the water.

The sun was setting.

It was pretty.

The boy told Kasumi so. She smiled at him and petted his hair.

They sat in silence for a while, but the boy had a reason to sit alone, so he was impatient to get to it.

Perhaps he should ask why Kasumi wanted to sit with him.

But how could he tell Kasumi that he really wanted to be alone for a while? It would need to be done in a way that wouldn't hurt Kasumi's feelings. He didn't want to hurt Kasumi. In these few days he had known her, he had learned to care for the older woman. If the boy was truthful, Kasumi was becoming like a real mother to him.

He just didn't want to admit it.

He didn't want to replace his true mother with Kasumi, even though he cared about Kasumi too. And somehow, if he admitted it, even to himself… it would feel more real. And the boy didn't want that. So he didn't.

_But how could he tell these things to her? And get some time alone?_ He really wanted to talk more to his spirit-friend. He just didn't know how, so he thought and squirmed. It was hard to sit calmly when he wanted to do something but couldn't.

Kasumi just sat there next to him. Calmly. She stared at the water and fireflies.

Then she said, softly… "I lost my boy this summer to the cholera."

And the boy didn't want to get away anymore. He remembered cholera. It was the sickness. Kasumi's soft voice sounded like she was in pain. Back then… it had felt so bad. The boy didn't want Kasumi to feel hurt.

He wanted to help her like she had helped him earlier.

_What could he do? _When his mother had sounded like that, she had just lost the baby. And then the three brothers had stayed close to her and the boy had hugged her. To remind her that she hadn't lost everything. That she still had them.

But Kasumi was not Mother.

"He was just four summers old. A small child. A bit smaller than you. Seeing you… reminds me of him." Her voice broke a bit. There was wetness in her eyes.

He didn't have any choice anymore. He hugged her. _Like he had hugged Mother._

And Kasumi pulled him tight against her chest and petted his hair.

If felt good.

_Almost like he had a mother again._

They stayed like that for a long time.

"You remind me of mother," The boy finally managed to tell her. "I didn't want to think about it. I don't want to replace Mother with you."

Kasumi petted his hair and told him with her mother voice, that chased away all fears and doubts: "Your mother is your mother. And my boy is my boy. But we can pretend together."

"What does pretending mean?"

Kasumi didn't answer very fast. Like she had to think about it for a moment. But it was okay. "It's playing that a lie is a truth. Like we both know, that you are not my boy and I am not your mother. But if we both agree to play that it is so, that's pretending."

"Mother said that lying is what bad boys do. And I shouldn't do so."

"Lying is not a good thing. No." Kasumi admitted.

They sat together in silence. The last rays of the sunset were peeking from the treetops and giving pretty shine to the water. The boy thought about families and sons and mothers. Mother was a mother and son was a son. But why one should have only one? His mother had had three sons. It was wrong to insist that Kasumi should have only one. And if Mother could have many boys, then maybe a boy could have two mothers?

So.

The boy told Kasumi this.

And Kasumi agreed.

Thus they became a second son to a mother and a second mother to a son. And it was okay.

Then there were no fireflies over the water. The sun had set too. The only light was coming from the campfire. And it was getting cold. So Kasumi nudged the boy and they rose to stand together.

That night before they went to sleep, Kasumi went to her bedroll and came back. She was carrying something small. She gave it to him. A colored piece of wood.

The boy asked what it was for.

Kasumi told him that it was a top. A toy for children.

And now it was his.

* * *

The following evening, they had walked even longer than usual. It was almost a night already and the boy was becoming hungry. His stomach was quite vocal about it. Akane laughed at him and told him to teach his stomach not to yell. _Was that even possible? What else could he teach his stomach? To speak? Maybe the spirit- _Then Kasumi smiled at him, and told Akane not to jest him. This prompted the boy to ask what 'jesting' meant? Sakura told that it meant joking.

…o_h, but why didn't Kasumi say so in the first place? Why they had to use difficult words when easy ones worked just as well?_ But seeing their smiles, the faint irritation just faded away and he told them that it was okay.

The sky was really pretty. All red and yellow, really bright colors. The boy liked bright colors. Like the ones his new top had. The sky was not that bright very often. On their right side, there was a clearing. On the left was forest, it was really thick. One couldn't see far in.

"Ugh." He puffed out, shaken abruptly back into reality. He had almost walked into Kasumi, who was in front of him.

_Why had they stopped? _

_Oh… _There was a man standing in the middle of the road. He had a sword – and he looked really scary.

Scarier than the scary man Hideo.

"We have you surrounded." The scary man with a sword yelled. "Surrender your monies and women and you may live." Before scary man Hideo could answer or the swordsman yell more, one of the girls ahead of them screamed and started to run towards the fields.

It was like something broke at that moment. And suddenly, all the girls tried to follow the first one.

"Don't let them escape! They will reveal that we are here!" A man's voice called out and more scary men came out of the woods with their swords.

Kasumi dragged the boy with her and followed the older sisters Akane and Sakura as they dashed across the field to the forest.

Shouts, screams… behind them.

They didn't dare to look back.

And after every scream there were fewer voices left.

Kasumi's grip was so tight on his wrist that it hurt, and he really couldn't see anything but her black hair and kimono-clad back. Then Akane fell down, and they too stopped for a brief moment. "Hurry, hurry up-" Kasumi started to yell, before hiccupping and falling to stop.

Akane's leg had twisted.

She cried as she tried to rise to stand but fell down, and tried again… and then Sakura came back to them and tried to help her up.

Kasumi let go of his wrist and went to help them too.

The boy turned to look back and saw-

A scary man with a sword was running towards them and seeing the girls' distress, slowed down to prowling walk. Mouth widening to a grin.

_What could he do, what could he do? He didn't have anything to throw at the scary man… nothing to slow him down, nothing to stop him._

There was more shouting around them, but now there were more deep men's voices screaming than girl's high voices.

The man turned to look behind him.

For some reason, the grin slipped from the man's face like it had never been there and he dropped the sword from his hands. Took a backwards step, another - and started to run to the forest too. _Why would a scary man run away?_ It didn't make any sense! The scary man ran like he, too, was afraid. Was there something even more frightening than the scary men with swords behind them?

He didn't see anything… but it didn't feel like a good idea to stay here.

The scary man had dropped his sword.

It lay there, on the ground.

Maybe… if the boy took it, he could defend second mother Kasumi and the almost-older-sisters Akane and Sakura. Just like he had defended the mud castles in games with his cone horses and stick samurai against the second brother's…

He didn't want to lose his family again. Kasumi, and Akane and Sakura were girls. He would defend them. He was a big boy. Almost a man.

A man like the scary men.

If they could use the sword, so could he.

So.

The boy crouched down and picked the sword up.

With both hands.

How could the scary man do anything with it? It was so heavy, like an overlong knife! He tried to lift it straight, like he had seen the scary men hold it.

The sounds of footsteps and heavy breathing were growing nearer.

The boy didn't want to look up, because he knew what he would see. His arms shook against the weight of the sword. _It didn't matter if he had a sword if he couldn't use it, and he really couldn't. _It was too heavy and long. A wave of terror rose, he wouldn't be able to protect -

Warm hands surrounded him. Pulled him back. He fell into the soft embrace and let the useless sword fall from his hands. It was Kasumi who held him. She felt like mother.

The boy felt loved.

The man in front of them was ugly. And tall. And hairy. And sweaty. And he had a sword that he could lift with one hand.

With a scream Sakura ran towards the ugly man.

The sword slashed.

Sakura fell down and didn't rise.

Akane with her twisted leg tried to rise to stop the man. She couldn't, so she begged him; "Spare the child!"

"Shinta! Don't look!" Kasumi whispered in his ear, but he couldn't close his eyes.

The man answered with his sword.

The boy shook, more afraid than he had ever been. Footsteps were getting closer and the man's white teeth flashed. _Akane and Sakura… dead. Dead. Kasumi too was going to die._ _die. Die. The sword, the teeth, the blood… _Kasumi pushed him to the ground and fell on top of him, covering him with her body. The boy looked up to Kasumi's face.

Her lips were almost bloodless. But her voice was low. Like mother's.

"Shinta. Shinta. You are just a child. You have not chosen your life like we have been able to. You cannot die now. You must live. Live a full life for the sake of those that died here tonight."

The scary man lifted Kasumi by her hair. Her eyes were dark and wide and scared. Tears fell across her cheeks.

"Shinta! Please live!"

And then the sword pierced through her throat. Kasumi's hands rose to the blade, grasping it – then the scary man dropped Kasumi to the ground. Like one would drop a kettle. Or a bucket. Or a slave.

Kasumi's throat bled still. She looked at the boy. Her lips were still moving but no sound came out. Like she didn't know she was dead already.

Then the boy heard her small broken whisper.

"Live Shinta… live for me..."

And the scary man struck the sword to her chest.

Kasumi's lips, that had spoken like mother's, didn't move anymore.

He had frozen still in shock, but he didn't know why. They were all dead, again.

The boy was alone.

Again.

The scary man walked to him and raised his sword.

The boy looked up to him and didn't feel scared anymore.

He didn't feel anything.

Didn't want to be alone again.

Maybe it would be okay.

The sword didn't hit him. Instead, the man turned to look behind him. And yelled a really bad word. And asked who it was.

The voice that answered was low. Cold. Calm. Like it didn't care. Almost like what the boy imagined the spirit sounding like.

The boy looked up.

He didn't know what he saw. It was large and white. And then the scary man that had killed Sakura, Akane and Kasumi… fell to pieces. The white being was a really big man. Biggest man he had ever seen. But he didn't feel like a man. He felt more like the spirit.

It was comforting.

The man spoke aloud. The boy didn't understand much. Too many new words to follow, but he thought it was about revenge and survival. It didn't matter what the man spoke to him, the cold and calm tone of voice felt safe and familiar.

So the boy wasn't afraid, instead he just sat there.

Then the man-spirit cleaned its sword. Put it back into the scabbard and turned around.

Started to walk away.

The boy wanted to shout at it, tell it not to leave him.

But his mouth could not bring out the words, so tried to stand up, but his legs didn't work. Nothing worked. He reached at the white- _I don't want to be alone. Not alone. Not again. Anything, but alone!_

The man-spirit in white just left.

The boy watched it go.


	4. Grave Digger and the Wandering Jerk

Chapter 3. Grave Digger and the Wandering Jerk

The moon was bright and round.

The boy was alone.

Alone on a field filled with dead people.

It was quiet.

He wanted Kasumi.

His useless legs didn't feel steady enough for walking, so he crawled on the ground that had become wet and muddy from all the blood.

Kasumi, who had lost her little boy. Who didn't mind he was odd and ugly. Who had just seen a little boy just as alone and adrift as she was. Second mother, who had comforted him when he had been alone in the crowd.

Kasumi, who lay there dead, with a wound in her throat and empty open eyes. Hesitantly he reached to touch her cool skin. It was clammy. It didn't feel anything like before. She didn't even look like Kasumi anymore. _That's because she was not there anymore, dummy. _

She was just a dead body.

His fingers fisted tight in her kimono, and the boy buried his face in the dirty, bloody cloth. It wasn't fair. He had just found her. Just dared to hope for-

A high screeching wail rose from deep in his chest and he tried to stop it. _It hurt, it hurt so much..._ he breathed in the odd musky scent that was lingering in her clothes, trying to find comfort from her empty shell. S_he too had left him alone. Just like Mother, and brothers, and father, and and-_

He didn't know how long he lay there, but after the moment had passed, the coldness was starting to creep on him. The damp cloth didn't keep warmth at all, his knees hurt and her body couldn't give him anything anymore.

The boy sniffled, then gave it up and wiped his nose with his sleeve. _It wasn't right, nothing was right in the world anymore. _

She had been his mother, a second mother - but a mother still. So he decided to do to her what he had seen father do to mother.

Dig a grave.

Because dead people went to graves. Even the boy knew that.

So.

He cupped his hands and started digging.

It didn't take but a couple drags of the muddy ground to discover that his hands were not good at digging at all. Under the thin surface of mud, the ground was packed hard. But he gritted his teeth and kept at it with sheer stubborn will.

Sand and sharp pieces of gravel slid under his nails. His fingers kept hitting odd lumps, root and stones. It was tiring work and really, really slow.

When he finally paused a bit to look at what he had managed to get done, he started to realize that it wasn't that simple. The hole in the ground, that was supposed to be a grave for Kasumi, was really shallow. One couldn't bury a chicken in it. And his fingertips were bleeding next to his nails; full of scratches from his efforts.

It wouldn't work like this.

Not well enough.

Idly, he sucked his bleeding fingertips and mulled over his problem. The moonlight covered the clearing, and across it, on the road were the caravan wagons. They had walked next to them all these weeks, stopping every night to eat from supplies the wagons carried…

His eyes widened. That was it! There had to be something he could use for digging at the caravan. So he clambered up and started his way across the massacre site. It was nasty to walk through the field with its high wet grass, and dead bodies littered around.

_Don't look down, don't think – just walk. _

The abandoned caravan was scary. There was no one there, just dead bodies and hastily discarded stuff that some of the girls had been carrying. The boy swallowed, and closed his eyes… The food stuff had been at the middle wagons, other supplies at the tail end of the caravan.

It felt bad to search the wagons. He kept expecting someone to jump out yelling and hit him for sticking his nose where it didn't belong. After all, the slaves hadn't been allowed near them. He had seen the scary man Hideo hit one of the girls for doing just that.

After quite a lot of searching in the pitch black darkness of covered wagon, he found a shovel. The boy had seen men use it to dig latrines.

It would do.

* * *

It was almost morning when Kasumi's grave was finally ready.

Even with the shovel, the digging hadn't been easy. The tool had been large and unwieldy, heavy. It had been made for adults and the boy was just a child, a small and scrawny one at that. But it had been easier to use it than dig with bare hands.

The boy set the shovel aside and straightened his aching back, wiped his sweaty hands to his pant legs. _I really did it, _he thought proudly while surveying his work. It wasn't very deep. Just barely past his knees.

But it would do.

Now he just had to get her body into the grave.

Taking hold of her hands, he pulled. The body didn't move. At that point the boy realized that it might not be so easy. _Why she is so limp? _Dismayed, the boy walked around the body. He tried pulling at the feet, it didn't work either. The body was just too heavy.

And he was tired.

Sitting down between the corpse and the open grave, he didn't think he had ever felt as bad as that moment. _All that work for her… for nothing_. He wanted to cry. But somehow, there was this certainty that if he did, he would never get anything done and it still wouldn't help him any.

It was Kasumi who had told him that is was okay to cry. And now Kasumi was dead.

So he didn't cry.

Instead he rose and walked around his second mother's body again and again… thinking. _But what if…_ And he pushed at her near the waist, just like he would roll a heavy log. The body moved.

It was almost easy to roll it into the grave.

Just a thud sounded as the body fell. He was almost satisfied, and glanced at the shovel… but the body had dropped into a really awkward position, face down. He didn't want her to be like that. It didn't look comfortable. _Sleeping like that would be impossible. _So the boy jumped down there and rolled her to her back. Arranged the kimono straight. Brushed her hair from her face.

It sort of looked like she was just sleeping there, he decided after it was all done. _Except for the gaping wound in her throat and the open eyes._ It was the eyes that nearly broke him, because they made it impossible to even imagine that _she was okay, just sleeping, still there for him._

The eyes were empty. She wasn't in them.

He swallowed, took a deep aching breath… then finally crawled on top of her, and closed the eyes for her. After that, he started shoveling the dirt on top of the body. Like father had buried mother. And Kasumi had been-

_Don't think. She isn't there anymore; it is just a body._ _Just keep working, keep moving. Don't dare to stop, don't even think of it because if you do… if you do, whatever can you do then?_

The sun was rising when he was finally done. He was tired, so tired. His stomach growled at him angrily. His hands were covered in blisters. He hurt everywhere.

If he just closed his eyes for a bit, he could almost fall asleep.

The first rays of sunshine covered the field and showed the droplets of water shining in the grass… and Sakura and Akane lying there, a few steps from him and Kasumi. There was no real thought involved; it just didn't feel right to leave them there.

So he started digging a new grave next to Kasumi's.

* * *

Everything hurt; hands, feet, his stomach felt like empty sack and his throat was parched dry. There was a constant ache just behind his eyes. So just for a few moments he lay there, trying to make sense of it all and work his eyes open. _It was just a dream… He could feel like this for other reasons, he really could. Let it be just a dream. Please._

Ho only needed to open his eyes to see that it was hopeless. The three new graves were right in front of him, anchoring him back into the harsh reality. A glance at the sun told him it was midday. He had never slept so late. Once, that would have been enough to cheer him. Not anymore.

He didn't feel like moving. _What would he do now? _He didn't know. _It was too much, too sudden. _

But he was thirsty.

And hungry.

That he could do something about.

It took a while to stagger up to stand… but he knew where he could go and that was enough. In the daylight, the walk through the field wasn't so bad. Well, he could avoid the corpses and bugs crawling on them, but it helped not to look too closely.

Searching through the supply wagon granted him water jugs. And vegetables, dried fish and rice sacks.

There was no one there.

He felt guilty and nervous, but… if no one saw, maybe it was okay? And there really was no one there, just him. So, after a while of trying to decide, he finally settled down at the back of the wagon to eat and drink. He had no idea how to make a fire for cooking rice, so it was better left alone. He didn't like vegetables much, but after munching few bites of dried fish…

When he had eaten all he could, he just sat there and stared.

The field was still covered in dead bodies, in pieces or mostly whole. The blood tainted the grass to an ugly rusty brown. On the side there was a crow picking at a bandit.

It made him feel ill, or maybe it was the faint tint of the horrible smell blown to his direction by the wind.

He didn't know most of the people that had lived in the dead bodies. He hadn't liked most of those that he had known, like the scary man Hideo. But they were not people anymore, they were just dead. And it was not okay to leave the dead just lying there for the animals to eat.

So he fetched his shovel and started digging again.

* * *

Hiko Seijuurou was a wandering swordsman. Well, in the sense that he was a Master Swordsman, had no current residence, no affiliation to any faction or any desire to have his loyalties chained down. Instead, he went where he desired and tried to help people with his sword. It wasn't difficult to find uses for his skills in this way either; lately with the economy in shambles and the heavy taxation on lower classes, the amount of bandits prowling in the woods had risen from the occasional fight to a constant nuisance.

Bandits had no other livelihoods but stealing from others. And peasants and merchants travelling the roads were already suffering enough. So, just as his master had taught him to wield his sword for the betterment of the common people, Hiko did.

Just like the vermin, it didn't matter how many he killed – more kept coming to infest the roadsides. Just like a never ending cycle. On particularly morose nights, it felt almost senseless; like his only purpose in life was squashing bugs so far beneath him.

But then again, someone had to do it and Hiko had no reason not to.

One night he killed a group of bandits while they were massacring a merchant caravan.

That bandit group was at least smart enough not to leave any witnesses, Hiko thought dispassionately. Usually the vermin kept the women for themselves as long as they lasted, and were -ah so surprised- if one would escape or be missed… and the location of the camp and ambush site would be hunted down. For a sorrier bunch of vermin like these were, only possibility of success was to ambush the poorly protected caravans that chose rarely traveled routes out of desperation, hoping to avoid the bigger and more professional bands poaching on the main routes. So, it all made sense - ruthless, but effective.

Not that Hiko cared. He just killed the vermin wherever he went.

This time though, a brief pang of regret flashed through him, when he realized that he was too late. It was blatantly obvious even at the first surveying glance – the caravan was abandoned and most of the merchants and their servant girls had been cut down on the field. There were some screaming and shouting, but it was quieting down. There was a particularly pretty face lying in two pieces at his feet. _Just a few minutes earlier, and I could have saved you…_ Her lush lips were twisted in a terrified grimace, her broken body was clad in a cheap kimono; one that no respectable lady would ever wear, but too fine for a peasant wench. Perfect for a slave intended to red light districts.

Perhaps it was just as well that he was late - life as a slave was not worth much. All need to hurry left Hiko, and he cut the vermin down on his own space.

However... near the end of the clearing, there was still a small scuffle left; a bandit cutting down a group of screaming slave girls begging for their life, too scared to even run. Or… No. The girls were protecting something.

Intrigued, Hiko started to make way towards them.

It was a child, or so it seemed. Hmmph. They probably were a family, sold together after the father had died. With no man bringing food to the family, they were probably left destitute and homeless.

The bandit saw him, blustered and demanded his name. It was proper fighter's etiquette, one that was oh so common among the samurai class. This man though… had no master anymore. A ronin, Hiko pegged him casually, experienced with the blade, but left with no other purpose but committing atrocities for his living.

Giving one's name to the enemy was a sign of respect.

Hiko didn't have any, not for this mangy dog - but it was only proper to answer. So he calmly remarked; "You are about to die, so knowing my name is meaningless to you."

The twisting of lips and narrowing of eyes told Hiko clearlythat the cur had understood the mortal insult he had been handed. The ronin bared his teeth and charged -

Three simple strikes handed out in a span of the blink of an eye. The bandit hadn't probably even seen the first, judging by the fact that he hadn't even tried to shift his stance to parry... and the cur fell into seven neat pieces. The edges of the cut flesh were even, there was no tearing and he had barely used any of his true strength or speed – it was too easy.

But then again, since his master's death… all sword fighting was too easy. _Just like squashing vermin._

Hmmph.

The child was still alive. A small thing, clearly a foreigner, Hiko noted with a raised brow. It wasn't as noticeable in the darkness, but the eyes and hair… they were too light, too pale. He almost wanted to make a sign of warding against evil. No proper Japanese looked like that.

The kid had frozen still, just stared at him blankly. Didn't react at all – like a broken toy._ A disaster waiting to happen._ Witnessing things like this and seeing his family die in front of his eyes, it did terrible things to the mind. Most adults would turn bitter and hateful. What would it do to a child?

It would almost be better to kill the kid now. Spare him some pain. With no family to support him, he would just be sold to slavery again. _A life not worth living._ Just a flick of the wrist, it would be too fast for the kid to even see or feel-

The very though left a bitter taste on his tongue.

The Winter Moon had already seen too much blood this night.

Decision made, he cleaned his sword and sheathed it. "I suppose it was fate that led me to this direction tonight." He remarked, "You have been avenged. Bearing a grudge against these men will not bring your loved ones back." There was nothing he could do for this kid, but to share this crumb of wisdom. One that he had understood all too late - feeling the sword strike true and the smell of blood fog his nostrils when his…

He continued to speak of revenge, of survival. He was not sure if he was talking to the boy or to himself. The kid didn't seem to understand a thing he said. Foreigner, definitely. Probably didn't speak right either, he noted and tried to quell his rising irritation.

It didn't matter, Hiko decided after the briefest of pauses. He felt like talking and for once there was a fitting audience to his wisdom.

So he shared it.

And left.

It was still a night, but before he had seen the massacre, Hiko had been intending to walk through the moonlit forests, avoiding people and haunting dreams. So, it was okay. He could keep to the plan with this small interruption behind him.

Watching the large moon that graced the sky tonight was a balm on his soul. It was beautiful, calming – it let him forget the memories. Watching beautiful things allowed him to believe that there was a reason for living, some other purpose than fulfilling his duty. The philosophy and legacy that he was bound to ground heavily on his shoulders, and hadn't offered him comfort in years.

So he travelled and let his mind rest. It eased the pain in his heart and plagued dreams that his mind would come up with.

The next afternoon he reached a village, a typical tiny countryside post founded on the side of a trade route. Empty houses, few older, painfully thin peasants and a couple vendors at the center. A typical sight these days, but it would do for supplies. He would need some more rice… maybe dried meat and… yes. His Sake jug was growing lighter – he definitely needed more alcohol.

He found the food vendors easily enough and paid the full price out of habit.

Bartering was a common custom, but he still wasn't used to it - or even worrying over money of all things. He had always had plenty, and now that he was a wanderer, it was becoming necessary to save where he could. But bartering was… petty. Only the poor people did it. Hmmph.

That said enough of it.

However, the village proved to be a major disappointment in one key sector, they didn't have a proper Sake vendor. In hindsight, it was too small for those and his inquiries gained him only the name of a village elder that brewed his own produces. The tone of voice of the person parting with this information told enough of the quality. In any case, Hiko wasn't too sure he would want to taste the local products.

So he left it at that.

What else did he need? Nothing.

But there was a feeling, a flash of knowledge that there was something he should do. The tingling was just out of reach, almost tangible – what it could be? Then as fast as the feeling had come, the moment was gone.

It was probably nothing important.

With that, Hiko let his restless feet lead him back to the road.

It took him nearly a week to reach his destination - a temple. Not that he was a particularly religious man, but it was now three years since his master's death and there was certain propriety in paying a yearly tribute to the old bastard. _May he rest in peace and plague some other poor sod in the afterlife. _There had been no lost love between the two of them, especially after he had learned of the old Bastard's betrayals, but everything was said and done, the old man had been the only person Hiko had truly respected.

Just like a proper student should respect his master.

Not that he had been good at showing it. Hmmph. He couldn't help but to smile at the memory. _What a rueful and arrogant kid he had been back then_...

After he said his words to the urn, Hiko took some time to find a monk. Now was time to attend to some necessities. This particular temple had monks that were quite skilled indeed in their brewing, and they could be convinced to share their products for a good price.

With his flask full, and the right and proper duties to his late master over and done with, Hiko was again free to do as he wished for a year.

No particular plans in mind; he let his feet lead him.

* * *

It took the boy days and days to bury all the dead.

But the supply wagon had water and food and he didn't have anywhere else to go. And not leaving meant that he could sleep next to Kasumi and Akane and Sakura. Being alone, he could also use all their blankets to build his bed.

So he managed.

He would have preferred to have mother Kasumi and the almost-older-sisters alive with him instead… but he had learned to make do. His world condensed to just that field and the caravan wagons by the road. He had his task, and single-minded stubbornness to finish it. There was nothing but eating, drinking, sleeping… and grave digging.

When he was finished, the field was filled with soft mounds of upturned earth. The neat rows of graves made him feel quite accomplished. And now that they were all buried, it didn't smell quite as bad anymore. But what would he do next? No one wanted him and he had nowhere to go._ No home to return to._

His breath hitched. _No, no… don't think. _

He was so tired and lonely… it was better not to think, because if he thought about it – _it would be too much and he couldn't, couldn't – something else, think something else. Anything else. What he had? Clothes, his top… and the- _

_Oh._

Was he alone? He frowned, with so much to do he hadn't even though about the spirit-friend since- _Don't think, don't._

Exhaling slowly he sat down on his blankets. No matter what had happened, the spirit should still be there._ He just hadn't talked to it, because…_ If he was truthful, it could be that he hadn't felt like being a big brother. It was too hard just to be him, to even think of being anything else. And the spirit was not cheerful company and didn't understand the boy much. But right now… he was not in a cheerful mood either.

And more than anything, he was lonely.

So he concentrated on the cold feeling and thought a memory of what had happened towards it.

The spirit answered with a warm feeling. The one that felt like it was petting his hair. But this time it didn't feel like an agreement. Instead it felt a like what Kasumi had done to the boy. He hiccupped, clenched his eyes shut… and thought that feeling to the coldness.

The spirit just sent the petting comfort feeling again.

It was almost like Kasumi was alive again. Just for a moment. The boy knew that it was not the same, not really. But in the middle of nothingness it felt like a lifeline.

The boy broke down and started crying.

He did it until the tears didn't bleed from his eyes anymore. Sometime after, helped along by the almost comforting petting feelings the spirit continued to send, he realized that he wasn't alone_._

He had his friend with him.

_Living inside him, even_. No one could take his friend away from him, like the scary bad men had taken Kasumi away from him. They were together, the boy and the spirit.

The realization made him feel better.

After a while of enjoying the warm feeling, he relaxed enough to look at the field filled with graves. They were just softer spots made of raised dirt mounds, really. Far cry from the graves that the boy remembered from the village. Something was missing from them.

'What is missing from the graves?' He asked the coldness, idly. Still thinking, trying to remember… what was it? He was fairly certain he knew what was missing, he should know. But he had only been at the graveyard once and-

The spirit sent images of crosses standing on graves.

He didn't know what those meant, but it felt right. But where he would find crosses here? There was nothing cross-shaped lying around_. What to do, what to do? _He thought it also to the spirit, asking for suggestions.

The spirit answered with an image of a wooden cross. It was made from two pieces of wood that were tied together with rope.

'I can do that,' the boy realized, immediately cheered.

A trip to the supply wagon was a scrambling mad affair, filled with stumbles and bumps. He was filled with new energy, just at the thought of having something more to do. It took some trying, but finally he found rope and a knife to cut wood with.

* * *

Over the next few days, the boy became very good at making crosses. At least in his own opinion. It felt good to make things.

It was just as well that he had started marking the graves with crosses from the sidelines, near the forest. It hadn't been a conscious decision; it was just easiest place to start finding good twigs or thin enough branches that his clever hands wielding the knife could cut.

But now, that he had marked Kasumi's and Akane's and Sakura's graves with crosses too, it didn't feel right. Now… their graves looked exactly the same as all the rest.

The boy sent that feeling to the spirit and the spirit agreed.

It was not right.

Kasumi was his second mother, and Akane and Sakura were almost his older sisters. They were more important than rest of the dead bodies. They deserved something special.

With this in mind, the boy circled the thick forest surrounding the field, trying to find something fitting. Thinking.

About graves. Markers. Special things.

And he remembered the stone where his friend used to live; the spirit had hated it, the boy had loved it. But regardless of the feelings – it had been special for both of them. And it had been there for a really long time.

Kasumi's grave should be special. And be remembered a long time.

So.

A stone it would be.

A special stone.

The spirit hesitantly agreed.

So the boy prowled the forest and looked for rocks. The rocks should be beautiful, because the girls had been beautiful. They shouldn't be sharp, the boy didn't like those. His hands were full or scratches and still painful wounds from sharp rocks.

He found a good rock.

It was big enough to be special. And round. Unfortunately… though he liked it a lot, it was heavy. Not as big as the Ugly special stone back at the mountain, but still up to his knees. It was too much for him to lift, so he didn't even try. But if the boy had learned one thing from burying dead bodies, it was rolling heavy things.

It took hours, and the sun didn't wait for his efforts at all. He sweated and spoke bad words, pushed and rolled – but it worked. However when he finally managed to get it into the right place on Kasumi's grave… Akane's and Sakura's graves looked empty next to it.

So he went to find two more stones.

* * *

He couldn't figure out anything else to do at the graveyard; all the bodies were buried, every grave had a good marker. Second mother Kasumi and almost sisters Akane and Sakura had a good round stones to mark their graves special. He had even tried to find flowers for the graves too, just like father had put on mother's grave. No matter his efforts, there just were no flowers near the field or in the woods.

Maybe it was too late in the autumn for flowers.

Sitting there, on his pile of blankets next to Kasumi's grave and watching graves… he started to feel worse and worse.

He didn't know what to do.

The spirit didn't know either.

He could go home. Maybe. But old Ine-sama had sold him. If he went back she would do it again and get even more money. And the people in the village hadn't liked him. To be truthful, he hadn't liked them either.

But the thing was - home was empty.

He couldn't go back, not to that. But he didn't know any other places where he could go either.

Neither did the spirit.

Winter was coming.

So, the boy sat there, before the three graves and thought.

* * *

For some reason, Hiko found his way back to the rarely used trade route passing the massacre site some ten days later. At the village, he had finally remembered what he had been meaning to ask at his last visit – for the villagers to look out for the foreign kid and offer it a place. Perhaps it was the desire to see that his generosity had had a purpose, that his words of wisdom and decision to save the runt's neck has spawned something good; he inquired after the child's fate now.

But no child had been seen near the village, the old gossipy vendor told him.

_What the hell..? But where would... There was nothing for tens of miles in the other direction! There had been no other settlements even near the clearing. _Needless to say, Hiko's curiosity was roused. Almost with no thought, he started his way back to the massacre site.

He had known earlier, that the road was rarely used, but Hiko had assumed that someone would come by it in a fortnight. But if there had been no one… He grimaced in distaste at the thought of bloated, rotting corpses – probably already half eaten by opportunistic beasts. Well if nothing else, he should bury the dead.

Perhaps it was because of his dead certainty of what he would see that he was so stunned when he saw the clearing. The caravan wagons were almost like they had been. But the field, instead of disgusting leftovers of carnage…

It was a graveyard now.

Neat rows upon rows of graves, marked with poorly made wooden crosses. And not a dead body left lying anywhere.

A bizarre sight.

Who marked graves with crosses? Not proper people! Maybe it was some weird foreign thing? And there, almost at the exact same spot where he had left the broken child… the same kid stood staring at three graves marked with round stones.

That at least somewhat resembled the decent burial arrangements.

The kid was filthy, and as an expert swordsman, Hiko was used to noticing hands in particular, so his gaze fell down and saw an ugly mess. The tiny hands were bruised and bloody, filled with wounds; a blood rot waiting to happen.

The pieces of evidence fitted nicely into place – and Hiko was impressed. That didn't happen often.

"I notice that you have made graves for bandits as well as your family." A simple observation, but it let the kid know that he was there. Hiko wasn't sure the kid was aware of his surroundings, and didn't intend to cause a scare. The last thing he wanted was to chase the object of his curiosity through the forest.

The kid didn't react, just kept staring ahead.

Stepping nearer, he assessed the waif more thoroughly - small, dressed in proper japanese boy's kimono and hakama pants. Hmm, that was unusual – the peasants didn't bother with such clothing, preferring to dress their progeny in cheap and replaceable yukata robes. But the quality of cloth and its cut were subtly wrong for a Samurai's child. The seams were clumsy, the pleats were too few to represent the seven virtues; not a mistake any honorable seamstress would make. A foreigner's mistake?

The child had a slender build and quite narrow shoulders. The fingers were thin, the wrist delicate. Boy's clothing wasn't necessary conclusive enough to deduce the gender. The slavers could have dressed the kid in whatever they could find and children sold to slavery were girls these days. It was bothering Hiko, that he couldn't decide for sure. But it was hard to tell with kids that young and that foreigner thing was throwing him off. He hadn't seen any before, hadn't really believed that humans could be born in festival colors…

But now that he was close enough to the kid to feel ki… it felt soft and cold, remarkably large and defined presence in fact. So, a boy with some fighting training, which made the theory of Samurai's child more and more likely - and hadn't he seen the boy hold a sword earlier? Hiko searched his memory. Yes. The boy had been holding a sword before the girls had protected him. There, a mystery solved.

"…they were slaves, not my family." A small, soft voice whispered.

Hiko felt his brow rise in disbelief. Ha! The kid could speak properly.

"I was sold to them after my parents died of cholera. After they died, there were no bandits or slaves or slavers. Just dead bodies."

The kid's voice was soft and clear, the words delivered without emotion. Like the boy was left empty of feeling. That was a bad sign. But still… the meaning behind those words was pure. Simple. Devoid of anger or hate the swordsman kept expecting to hear. No. Those words were almost beautiful in their simple form.

"What are those stones for?" He asked, curious despite himself. _If all the people the boy had buried were the same_,_ it followed that these graves that were marked different would mean more to him._

"Kasumi... -san. Akane-san. Sakura-san."

There was something odd in the way the boy said the first name. Like the kid had wanted to add a different honorific to it, or choose to discard the proper but slightly impersonal -san, but chose not to. But nothing baffled him more than the odd accent; that particularly unrefined manner of recitation just screamed country bumpkin from the deepest mountains in the backcountry…

Hiko was fascinated. The boy unconsciously refused his attempts to categorize him, and continued to lead his deductions astray. A real mystery. It was not often people managed to surprise Hiko, especially not children. Not that he knew any, but still.

"I only met them some days earlier… but I wanted to protect them."

He didn't want to interrupt the boy. He wanted to know more, to understand this frail thing in front of him that denied all his assumptions.

"I was the only boy in the group, but they took me in and tried to protect me. 'Spare the child,' they said… I was too young to help."

Hmmph! The mite was not even near to Hiko's waist; of course he was too young! The mere thought that the boy could protect anyone was ridiculous. But the fact that the boy had wanted to try… showed strength.

Not many men were able to fight the paralyzing fear of helplessness, and attempt to conquer it.

An essential ability for a swordsman, and it was one so deeply familiar to Hiko that he couldn't even remember a time when he hadn't had it. After all, it was because of this inner strength that his master had chosen him for an apprentice.

An apprentice.

Hmmm.

Hiten Mitsurugi lay on Hiko's shoulders alone. It wasn't right. The style was made to be carried by two; a master and an apprentice. He had known it for a long time, had blatantly ignored the implications before. The old bastard's death was still heavy on his heart, a deep shadow in his life. But now… _it was like a moment of pure clarity, seeing the fate hand a choice and then it was up to you to make your pick. You knew what it would mean, that it would change your whole life…_

Could he let this chance to pass him?

The boy was young, but with unusually defined and impressive ki. The most basic requirement for Hiten Mitsurugi swordsmanship-

It was too early! Hiko Seijuurou the 13th had still a lot wandering left to do, to carry out his duty to the sword of Mitsurugi. But lately the duty had been heavier. It had chafed him. This boy, this foreign waif, one that spoke like a proper Japanese boy, whose words were careful but shone a simple beauty… This graveyard, the fact that the kid had survived alone in the most horrific situation and retained his strength-

If Hiko walked away again, the boy would never hold a sword. Would never try to protect innocents with a sword again.

What _a waste_ that would be.

_A spark was flaring to life in the deep haunting recesses of his soul; that had been screaming in agony for years, burdened by the uselessness of his existence… _

The boy _should _wield the sword to protect, and succeed.

"…I wanted them to have special graves so I wanted good stones. Those are the only ones I could find. I couldn't even find flowers to put on them…"

Almost on their own volition, his treacherous feet took a step forward. Hiko exhaled, and decision made, walked to the grave stones while uncorking his sake. It was the good sort he had bought from the Temple that was his Master's final resting place. It was only proper in every way – Hiko's decision, but in this small way it would signify also the old Bastard's approval.

He poured it slowly on the stones, one by one. Just like the boy had spoken the names.

The boy turned to look at him; pale, pale blue eyes in a fey pale face.

He didn't recoil, but it was a near thing, such an unnatural sight… to mask his brief revulsion, he explained; "It is unfortunate to enter the nirvana without having tasted good Sake, so this is my tribute to them."

"Thank you." The words were delivered softly like everything else. No clear emotions to be seen - no hope, no expectation. Like the boy didn't know to even _wish_ _for_ anything more than what he had now. A pure soul. Clean slate, just waiting to be molded.

"I am Hiko Seijuuro. I am a swordsman."

"A swordsman?"

_Oh yes, a swordsman, boy. I will claim you. You will be perfect._ A smile rose to his lips, now… how to get the boy to rise up and live again? To pick up the sword he had dropped, and fight?

Hmmph, but of course.

"Boy. You failed to protect something very delicate."

_By doing as his master had once done to him; pointing out the failure and observing the consequences. _

"You were entrusted with those three lives. Your hands will remember how heavy their bodies were, but you will carry the far heavier weight of their lives with you forever. "

_Reminding of the failure and why it mustn't happen again._

"You have already carried them."

_Prompting to action, to prevent the failure from happening again._

"Now you must acquire the strength to support yourself and to protect others."

_Because what else had been the sword of Mitsurugi been created for and passed on, but just for this? It was a simple truth; strength was necessary, but only to protect those less capable! _

"Then, you will be able to live your life and defend the lives you cherish."

Because… Hiko had learned something by himself, too. That one man was just a man, and couldn't protect the whole world.

So.

"Defend cherished lives?"

He would teach the boy. Everything he knew. And with this boy, Hiko would show the old Bastard how the old man had been wrong. This boy would learn how the sword of Mitsurugi should be used to protect!

Then, with almost an afterthought…

"What's your name, boy?"

"Shinta."

The slaves were registered. And those registries were noted at the checkpoints, when travelling from domain to domain. It was obvious that the user of heavenly sword of Mitsurugi couldn't be a slave… so it was time for the last survivor of the massacre to disappear.

"Much too delicate name for a swordsman. From now on, your name will be Kenshin." Heart Sword. Heart of the Sword. It _would_ suit the boy – better than anything else.

"Kenshin…" The boy's too pale eyes were large and round, as he tried out the new name.

"I am going to teach you, boy. Teach you my forte!

* * *

The boy looked up at the man-spirit in white, mouth slightly open. It was offering to teach him? To fight with swords? To protect?

_Brothers playing in the sun with their cone horses, stick Samurai and mud castles; making up stories of warriors and heroics / Picking up the sword and realizing it wasn't anything he thought it would be, that it didn't matter if he had one, when he couldn't use it / Kasumi's eyes as the blade went through her throat-_

With a sword… he wouldn't be helpless, wouldn't have to lose anyone he cared about again. There was nothing more the boy wanted, than just that.

But… he wasn't alone anymore. It wasn't just his life anymore; he couldn't make a decision like this alone. So, he thought the memory to his friend – thought how much he wanted this, added a questioning feeling.

The spirit was silent for a moment. And then it answered with an intense bundle of feelings; confusion, distrust, hesitation, hatred of people – others, needing help. And finally…

The petting agreement.

The boy smiled.

Nodded.

So the swordsman-spirit got two students.


	5. Underneath the Underneath

Chapter 4. Underneath the Underneath.

"We should get going. Do you have everything you need?"

The boy looked around. _Need, what would he need with him to travel? Back here, he had survived only because the caravan had had food and water… he couldn't go long without either._ The first few days of grave digging had made that painfully clear.

A brief glance at the man-spirit - no, Hiko-san - showed that the man didn't have any supplies with him. Well, nothing but the Sake, the cloak and the sword… but how could he travel so? Perhaps he had something more with him, but it must be hidden under the cloak, but surely even the man-spirit couldn't have enough for the boy too?

"Wait a moment," he told to the man-spirit - Hiko-san - and dashed off to his nest of blankets.

First things first, he slipped his top to his sleeve pocket. Kasumi had given it to him, he couldn't leave it – it was the only reminder of family he had.

The bed was thick and heavy, as it should be. He had made it from the four blankets and sleeping on it had been really nice and warm, but there was no way he could carry all of them alone. The boy bit his lip, anxious. Glance behind - the man-spirit looked so cold and forbidding. No, there was absolutely no way that he would mess this all up by being a crybaby and asking the swordsman to carry his stuff. A slight hiccupping inhale, and decision made; he took only the most topmost of the blankets with him and rolled it for easier carrying. It had been Kasumi's, and the boy thought it still smelled a bit like her.

Then off to the supply wagon.

The man-spirit - Hiko-san followed him slowly, hard eyes watching his every moment like a hunting cat but never saying a word.

Rummaging through the already familiar food supplies, he found a small enough water jug for carrying. It would do, but the food was a different issue. The vegetables were large and already smelling somewhat funny. Rice the boy couldn't eat like that, and he wasn't sure if the man-spirit had means to prepare it either. Perhaps the boy should ask him?

_But what if it was a stupid question and the man-spirit would get angry at him for asking? Old Ine-sama had gotten angry the few times he had dared to ask anything… No, it was better not to annoy the swordsman until he knew more._

But there was still some dried fish left, and though it tasted quite bad, he had gotten somewhat used to it after all this time. So he took as much with him as he could fit in the blanket, and used the left over bits of rope to tie it all up neatly for carrying on his back.

With the preparations done, he ran to man-spirit—Hiko-san. Looked up. The swordsman's brow was raised in question and up this close… he didn't look or feel nearly as scary.

"Ready to go now?"

And the boy nodded.

The man-spirit scoffed. Turned around and started walking.

The boy followed.

* * *

He had to run every now and then, just to keep up with the man-spirit's long steps. No. Hiko-san's. The man-spirit had a name, so the boy should use it. _But he didn't know the man-spirit well enough..._ _and it was kind of rude to call someone with just their name. _

Back when Mother had taught them about honor words, she had kept reminding that using a wrong one would be rude. If one added too high honor to a name, it would remind the person that he was not worth that honor. To add too low of an honor was even worse an insult. _Shinta-chan… if it's too hard, just add –san to the name. Or you can be silent and stay close to me. A faint smile and a whisper of laughter..._

The boy swallowed, and rubbed his eyes – just to make sure they were dry. _Don't think, don't try to remember and it hurts less. _

But what word should he add to man-spirit's name? What would fit the best? The man-spirit's wide back and the flowing cape didn't give the boy any hints. The white cloth was so odd, and mostly reminded the boy of_ the heroes in father's evening tales, when he could be convinced to tell one. Don't-_

Everything in the man-spirit was just too odd, the boy decided after a while. The way he walked, dressed, spoke… it all gave the boy a firm certainty that choosing an honor word too low would be a big mistake. But what was too high? Surely the man-spirit was no Lord, or a village elder… How could the boy choose? Even the usually acceptable –san didn't suit at all the name Hiko and the person it belonged to.

_It was impossible! There were no good options!_

And somehow… the man-spirit felt cold and distant - just like the spirit-friend, who didn't like people at all. Would he dare to ask? But what if the man-spirit didn't want to hear him speak? What if it would find the questions annoying like old Ine-sama…

If it wanted the boy to talk, it would ask questions, the boy reasoned. So, better be silent.

After all, the boy didn't know why the man-spirit had decided to take him with it, and the boy didn't want to be alone again. And the promise of learning the sword fighting - the boy definitely didn't want to give that up! The man-spirit had been really good with the sword, killing the bandit so easily, surely he could teach the boy to fight just as well?

But what if the man-spirit decided that the boy was not good enough? Or what if it had lied? What reason did it have to offer the boy these things he most wanted, should the boy even trust it? What if it was just doing what the old Ine-sama had done… the boy didn't want to be sold ever again. _To feel that he wasn't a person, wasn't any more important than a bucket, and that no one would or even should care-_

It had felt awful.

The boy shared these thoughts with his friend, who also seemed to be unsure about man-spirit Hiko-san. A long discussion followed, but together they agreed to wait and see. After all, it was possible that the man-spirit was speaking the truth. But at the first sign of something else… well, the boy and the spirit had managed before.

The issue of what they should call the man-spirit, though, was settled with a decision that the swordsman couldn't be harsh enough to abandon them for just one question. And if he was, then maybe it was better so. But when should he ask it? Now?

…the man-spirit Hiko-san's large back was so forbidding. Maybe there would be a better moment if the boy just waited?

Ah! The swordsman had again gotten ahead of him! The boy almost said a bad word, and ran.

The boy had gotten used to walking all day long with the slave caravan, and the soles of his feet had grown hard to make it easier, so he didn't even get blisters anymore.

But, the caravan had moved slowly.

The man-spirit didn't.

The boy had to run every now and then, just to keep up. It was because the man-spirit was so big and had really long legs, the boy reasoned. It was just a normal way of walking for the man-spirit Hiko-san. _It wasn't that the swordsman was intentionally trying to leave the boy behind. No, no. It couldn't be. He couldn't have annoyed… _

But no matter the reasoning, the occasional running was making the boy tired really fast. It was harder to breathe, there was this sting in his chest and the back of his kimono was clinging to his back.

He really should say something to the man-spirit in white, who was walking calmly in front of him, never once looking back.

The bed roll slung over his shoulder was really awkward to carry, and it was getting heavier. How would the boy talk to the man-spirit? What would he call him? Honorable Hiko-san, please, can we stop for a moment? No, that would be complaining… _old Ine-sama hadn't wanted to hear any complains, she had warned him not to make a nuisance of himself. Maybe that was why she had sold him? If he demanded stupid things, would the man-spirit- _

_No, no, don't think. _

The boy couldn't risk it.

After all, the swordsmen were big and tough men, and even though the boy was just a boy… he was a big boy and should be tough. If he wasn't tough enough the man-spirit would definitely think that he wasn't worth the trouble and leave him.

So, the boy sweated and tried to catch his breath.

And followed the swordsman.

* * *

Hiko had chosen to follow the road. He didn't want to visit the village for the third time in a short while, especially not with his pick along. So, that left only one reasonable option; the direction where the caravan had come from.

Before they had left, Hiko had given the boy a chance to take his things with him. It was partly a test to satisfy his curiosity, but also sheer necessity. _Who knew what the boy valued and couldn't leave? _Hiko wouldn't stand a crying child's whining…

The kid had dashed around the caravan looking for his possessions and whatever supplies he wanted to take. Hiko kept an eye on the boy, but didn't interfere or loot the wagons. He might be a wanderer now with no clear income, but he hadn't stooped low enough to rob from the dead.

The boy was a different - as the last survivor, it was all his by right.

When it was all done, Hiko started walking. _Let the boy to decide whether to follow or not. _That much of a choice he could grant the kid, it was all laid down on the table; an honest offer with high requirements - a path to becoming a killer and duty heavier than a mountain, or leaving and finding the village in the other direction, and the decent and normal people therein that could possibly look after an additional child…

Without a hesitation the boy followed… keeping a dutiful distance.

_So be it._

Hmmph, he scoffed but couldn't help the slight hint of a smile that rose to his lips.

_It was like leading a puppy._

To satisfy his curiosity, Hiko kept glancing behind from the corner of his eye. It wouldn't do to stare openly, that would only scare the kid.

The boy followed him easily enough, he noted with a surprise. The short legs had to take five steps to his two, but that was the way it would be. If Hiko made it easy for the boy and coddled him, the boy wouldn't grow strong. No. The boy was small, but would have to grow fit to handle the training to come. One of the perks of travel was that it was excellent for building endurance. And regarding training, there was no reason not to start early…

And- to be truthful, Hiko didn't want to linger near the massacre graveyard. It roused memories of blood and carnage in his mind that he would rather let lie where they belonged.

The boy was interesting, though. Hiko was constantly expecting the boy to demand him to slow down – he would have at that age. But the boy didn't. He just silently struggled and followed him. Occasionally, the boy would stare ahead with a blank look in his eyes, like he had his head in the clouds. Hiko didn't know what to make of it. Maybe the boy was thinking of something? Or remembering?

In any case, it was a bad habit.

Thinking like that left one open for attacks, and remembering… Hiko had intimate experience why remembering was not good for you either. The boy probably had memories more suitable for horror stories than for the mind of a child. So, something should be done about that habit. Hiko didn't know where to start; _no matter – it would come to him in time. And it was not the first priority with the child…_

First thing was to get the waif cleaned up. And those hands needed to be looked after. Hmmm, where was the nearest water by this road again? Hiko searched his memory; ah, there was a lake next to the road some miles out. It would do for a camp site.

Travel plan decided, he marched on.

* * *

The sun had set and it was getting really dark, but the man-spirit just walked on. The boy didn't know why though; by this time of the day, the slavers had always stopped to make camp. He wondered if perhaps he should ask about it… but the things he wished to ask the man-spirit about were quickly piling up and he hadn't dared to voice a single one of them yet.

Among those questions, the reason for travelling at night was nowhere near the most important ones.

Besides, the moon shone bright, making the road easy to see.

Soon the boy realized that if he didn't think how tired and hurt he was, it wasn't so bad. The problem was finding a suitable distraction; walking through a dark forest road wasn't exactly good for that as he couldn't see far enough to find anything interesting. The white cloak of the man-spirit could hold his attention only for so long… so he fell back to talking with his spirit-friend. It was a little bit tricky to concentrate long enough for the brief exchanges of images and emotions. He didn't dare to try for longer talks yet, because while he was getting better at walking and thinking to the spirit at the same time… he didn't want to bump into a tree or anything. The man-spirit-Hiko-san would find him stupid and weird if he did that - _and might decide not to keep him._

Still, the exhaustion kept creeping up on him. The boy's feet felt swollen and heavy and even breathing was becoming a struggle against the ache in his chest and drawing in enough air…

But the man-spirit walked on.

Try as he might, the boy's feet wouldn't move fast enough anymore. So, bit by bit he fell behind more and more.

_He didn't want to be left alone._

_Not again._

* * *

The waif was falling behind, Hiko noticed. He had taken longer than he had assumed, but then again… the slaves had been travelling by walking. It was a logical conclusion that the boy was used to travelling throughout the day. However, it didn't look like the kid could keep it up much longer. So, subtly, Hiko slowed down his space. It wouldn't do let the boy out of his sight. The kid could fall down on his feet at any moment now, he looked that tired.

Not that it was a big deal. The lake was just ahead and then they could stop to make a camp.

They had made it there in a good time; it was only a few hours after midnight. The moon was high, illuminating the road with pale rays. Ah, there it was; a small clearing next to the road with a path down to the lakeshore that he remembered from before.

There he stopped and waited for the miserable waif that was supposed to be his apprentice.

The boy hadn't yet noticed he had stopped, but instead just trudged ahead like a living dead with his head in the clouds again. _What on earth was going on in that mind?_ _Hmmph, he really needed to get the boy out of that habit… _The only people, who Hiko had seen being out of the world like that, were simpletons; wasteful bags of flesh, who were of no use to anyone, or sick men drunk on the milk of poppy - it was unnatural.

_Pale unfocused eyes and tiny feet that beat the road in steady slow pattern. Harsh and fast breathing. Filthy clothing that clung to the skin. Bloody and bruised hands. _

The waif was truly a pitiful sight.

And a smelly one too.

Hiko cleared his throat.

The boy stopped like a deer caught in the field by surprise. The eyes cleared and focused on him.

Better.

"We will be making camp here." Hiko informed the kid.

The boy looked hopeful.

"I will start the fire. Leave your stuff here and go take a wash on the shore. You reek."

The boy slowly, almost reluctantly, let the bedroll fall down to his feet. Then he looked up at Hiko with a distrustful look, but after slight hesitation – rose, turned and started to make his way to the waterfront.

Hiko shook his head, _what was that about? _

_Well, whatever it was it could be left alone for now. _

First things first, he was getting hungry, so it was prudent to make the fire for boiling the rice. The forest surrounding the camp spot had some reasonably dry twigs for the fire, Hiko noted with satisfaction. In any case, the boiled water would be useful also for cleaning the boy's mangled hands… _It wouldn't do to lose a finger or two for infection and the resulting wound rot. _It would wreck his plans for his new apprentice right all, healthy hands were an essential tool to the swordsmen - fingers were the source of balance for the blade.

True, one could compensate, yes. But to start training a kid that young who was already damaged?

Absolutely senseless.

Hiko frowned, and scanned the drier looking branches. A swift strike with the Winter Moon cut the wood easily. Once, he would have thought using his sword for menial chores an unspeakable heresy. Now… he had learned to swallow his pride on practicalities.

Regarding the boy, though, Hiko couldn't quite decide how old he believed the kid to be - he was so small. There were rumors that the foreigners aged differently, so maybe that explained some of it. In any case, the kid couldn't be younger than five nor older than ten, Hiko reasoned; a sufficiently large scope to cover for all possibilities.

For training purposes, both ends of the scale were inconvenient to say at least. Five meant too young to start training with the swords properly yet, the constantly growing limbs would be incapable of a firm motor control. Also there would be a need for basic schooling, Hiko realized with a pang of dread. _Surely the kid was not that young, no, he couldn't be._ Teaching anyone to read or write was decidedly _not_ included in Hiko's plans for on the other hand, the older the kid was, the closer he would be to the puberty.

The swordsmandidn't quite sputter, but it was a near thing, when the horrified awareness of all the challenges of child rearing started to come to him.

_Perhaps this might be more difficult than he was capable of… after all, what did he know of children that wasn't based on his own childhood? Nothing. Was this the correct choice? Maybe he should escort the kid to a nearest village and see that the waif had a place there, and then he could go on with his life like he was used to…_ No. What came would come in time and he would conquer all the challenges, he decided and gritted his teeth. Hiko Seijuurou the 13th was not in the habit of second guessing himself, _thank you very much_ and he wasn't about to start now.

Besides, raising a kid - a swordsmanship apprentice or not - couldn't be that hard. Women did it all the time.

Armload of almost dry wood with him, he returned to the dedicated camping spot. The boy had not yet returned. _What was taking that long? _He pondered and struck spark to the twigs with the flint. When he was young, he had hated bathing in outdoors. And the lake water had to be freezing… there was nothing that would cause him to want to linger. No. His master had thrown him to the cold water often enough to "cool down that temper."

Hmmph. Needless to say, Hiko was not fond of cold water.

A fire was starting to form nicely and the fire didn't look like it needed tending. So, he laid down the rest of twigs and branches that he had collected close to the fire to dry. The moist twigs gave out a bit too much smoke, but oh well… some smoky scent on clothes was a small price to pay and would serve to overpower the stink of the fresh graveyard.

Hm. What else was needed? Ah, some water to boil rice with. Hiko nodded to himself and rose; it would be good to check up with the boy at the same time. The small bundle, where he carried his supplies under his cloak, revealed a travelling kettle. This in hand, he headed to the lake shore.

* * *

When the man-spirit Hiko-san told him to leave his things, the boy felt a shadow of a doubt. Most of the stuff in his bedroll was necessary, but not something that he couldn't replace… the sole exception being his top. So, when he put down the bedroll, he slipped his hand between the folds and grabbed the wooden toy.

The boy was pretty sure that the man-spirit hadn't seen him doing so.

With his precious toy with him, the boy took the small path leading downwards to the lakeshore that the man-spirit had gestured to him. It was bit slippery and the boy's swollen and tired feet were not exactly steady, so he took his time.

The moon shone on the water. It looked pretty. Quiet.

It didn't escape the boy that he had seen this lake before. It was the same one that the caravan had stopped by to make camp earlier, and on the shore close by… Kasumi had asked him to be her second son. There she had become his second mother.

It was hard to breathe, like there was something lodged in his throat. But it didn't make any sense, why did it hurt?

It was just a lake.

The boy shakily made his way to the water, slipped out of his clothes and started to wash. The water was freezing. It reminded him of home. Back there in the mountains the well water had often been cold like this. He swallowed and struggled to reign in his tears. _If he started crying, he wouldn't ever stop and nothing would get done. Besides, only when he had been with Kasumi, he had been allowed to be the baby._

_And she was dead now._

So, he kneeled and scooped up some finer sand to wash up with. He hadn't really noticed it before, but his skin had become grimy during the time in the graveyard. His hands throbbed and the sand felt awful against the raw wounds. But he didn't want to be dirty - _Kasumi and mother both would have yelled at him for being so. _

And somehow, the pain of scrubbing his skin lessened the choking feel in his throat.

He stayed in the water until he felt numb all over, and the skin in his hands and feet was all wrinkly and soft. He felt clean. It was a good feeling.

His clothes stank on the shore. The very thought of dressing in them felt awful.

So, the boy took his shirt and started scrubbing the cloth with the sand. It was dark and he didn't see if it did any good for the stains in the cloth. Mother had given him this shirt and the matching hakama pants last year. She had sewn them herself. _'It's for your Samurai games, Shinta-chan.' laughing voice told him, a smile tugging at her lips and her eyes soft with love. _The rest of her face was blurry, and even though he tried to focus on it to fill in the details, none came to him. _What color her eyes had been? Brown or dark grey? It had been so long ago, but surely he should remember… _

He hiccupped and the almost overwhelming pain was back. _No, better not to think. _

In any case, the shirt had been the first new clothing that he had ever owned. It had been green - _that_ he was sure of - and he had been so proud to have it. Made just for him, not his older brother's cast offs like the ones before had been.

He had loved that shirt.

The faint laughing voice whispered; _"The green color really sets off nicely against your red hair, my darling baby. I shall have to try to get more cloth of that shade next year..."_ the boy sniffled and kept rubbing; the sickness had come before she had a chance to. Now the shirt was some dark grimy color, and one could never guess that it had been green once.

For some reason, it suited the boy just fine. He too was different than he had been. No one back in the village would recognize him now.

'The change - was it okay?' he wondered to his spirit-friend. Change- _Kasumi had asked him to never change… _

Eyes wide he stared blankly ahead, and started to shake in distress. _She would be so disappointed at him._ Already, he had broken her wishes, even without intending to-

The spirit-friend interrupted his panicky fretting with memories like usual. This time though, it showed him pictures of people. No. It was always the same person. But it was the same one at different ages? What was the spirit trying to say?

The person in memories looked different in every picture. As a boy, the person looked happy. Then a bit older and the look in the eyes was different; more focused, the mouth was no longer openly smiling. In the next one, the person was wearing adult's clothes. He was not even nearly as old as father had been, but the eyes looked hard and the mouth was a tight line. There was pain? More pictures still and a different look every time – but always the same man.

"Even if he grew up, it was always the same person? This is what you are trying to tell me?" The boy asked, aloud just to fill the silence.

The petting agreement feeling.

_But why did the spirit show him this?_ It wasn't like the unfamiliar boy grown to a man was anyone important to the boy… But, wait - his question! Eyes widening and mouth falling open, it all began to make sense to the boy. Perhaps, the spirit was saying that he wasn't changing; not really. That he was just growing up, exactly like the man in the pictures.

If so, maybe he hadn't betrayed Kasumi after all?

And maybe, she wouldn't be disappointed in the boy for doing it. So, it also meant… that it wasn't a bad thing that he was changing?

Another petting feel.

The boy didn't cry in relief, but it was a near thing. Instead, he let the shirt fall into water and wiped his face, rubbing the heels of his palms over his eyes. He took a deep inhale, and then let all the tension fall away with the exhale. _He hadn't done anything wrong, Kasumi wouldn't be angry at him. It wasn't okay, it would never be okay…_ but he didn't feel quite as bad anymore. He was just growing up. Kasumi was gone, true - but he hadn't betrayed her.

The boy looked to the shore, to the pile of discarded clothing. There, on top of the pile laid a colored piece of wood. _Kasumi's top._

No. He didn't want to disappoint Kasumi. _'Live, live for me Shinta…'_

_Yes._

He thought this to the spirit and was rewarded by another petting comfort feeling. With the new resolution achieved, he returned to the shore and hanged his shirt to dry on a low hanging branch. Then he took his hakama pants and returned to washing them.

* * *

Hiko had been intending to fetch the boy or to just hurry him up, but seeing that boy was not up to anything harmful, he didn't feel like interrupting. Instead he kept watching from the shadows of the trees surrounding the lakeshore.

Kid was washing his clothes, and there was already some drying on a low branch.

A reasonable action, Hiko noted with a frown, but not very farsighted. The damp cloth wouldn't dry well out there - the morning was cold and misty. When the sun rose, it would help but in the meanwhile…

Hmm.

The boy was pale as winter and even smaller now that there was no misshapen layer of poor quality cloth covering him. A sorry sight too, the ribs were showing. _In the next village Hiko would have to stock up more food, especially meat to gain muscle on that form. It was no wonder that the boy hadn't been able to lift the sword well… _ But, a pleasant surprise was that the boy looked healthy enough. There were no large wounds or contusions on the skin, no large scars either. It suggested that the boy had been either fortunate or obedient.

But then again, the slave caravan _had_ been for pleasure slaves. So it made sense that those wouldn't be beat harshly, not enough to leave scars at least – the slaves had to be beautiful. Hiko couldn't sure what the life as a slave had been like for the boy, but the surface evidence didn't show any physical abuse, not that it did any to disclaim the more revolting options…

The feeling of utter disgust turned his mood even sourer.

It was a good thing that the slavers hadn't reached their destination. He couldn't imagine that life for any child.

Hmmm.

Staying in the water that long couldn't be healthy regardless of the temperature, and that lake water had to be freezing cold. _He_ wouldn't stay there voluntarily for a minute, not even if he was paid to. Hiko stepped out in the open and went to fill his kettle.

The boy looked like he was lost in his head.

Again.

Time to break it up.

On purpose, Hiko stepped on stones so that his steps made a crunching noise - just to warn the boy that he was there.

The boy jumped like a scared rabbit, turned swiftly and the wide open eyes immediately zeroed on him. Good instincts, Hiko noted with approval and commented casually; "It's cold out here. Come up, I have a fire going. Better to dry out your clothes there too."

The boy nodded warily.

Without any further comment Hiko took his leave.

The fire looked good and the twigs no longer gave out smoke. However, the flames had eaten almost all of the wood, so he added a few drier pieces to the fire. He didn't have the patience to wait for the coals tonight, as just watching the boy washing in the freezing water had made him shiver in sympathy. A warm meal would be just the thing. It didn't take long to find a suitable willow branch and set the kettle hanging from it over the fire.

The water was heating nicely by the time he heard faint footsteps from the path.

Ah, the boy was coming up - finally. The kid was still naked, shivering and the pale skin had taken an oddly blue tinge, but he was carrying the wet clothes.

_A truly pitiful sight_, Hiko noted with a sigh. Well, it wouldn't do to let the brat to catch pneumonia on top of everything else. With a grunt he heaved himself standing, stripped out of his cloak and shirt.

"Here. Put this on or you will catch a cold."

The boy looked at his offering hesitantly and then glanced down at the wet pile of clothes in his arms.

"Just lay those out on grass near the fire. It will serve for the moment."

With that, the waif came clearly to a decision and kneeled to put down the wet bundle, and started slowly inching towards him, then reached –

When the kid grabbed the offered shirt, Hiko just shook his head in exasperation; _t_o_ok you long enough. _

And then – the kid had _the gall to sniff at the shirt!_

The silent critique was all too clear and Hiko scoffed, amused despite the rudeness and fought against the smile that was tucking at his lips… finally giving up the effort, he grudgingly admitted; "It's not clean, but it is dry."

A shy smile in return.

_It really was quite cold out here, how had the kid managed to stand it?_ The dampness in the air drove the cold straight to the bones, or at least it felt so and the deeper scars in his body ached in answer, reminding Hiko of their existence. No, it was not a good weather to tramp around without clothes. Thankfully he still had his cloak, no matter that the old Bastard would spin on his grave for the sacrilege.

The boy had put on Hiko's shirt, but the garment was ridiculously large on him. The hem fell all the way to the ground regardless of the kid's efforts to make it functional attire; the sleeves were rolled up clumsily and the kid's drying belt was used to tie the improvised robe shut.

It wasn't ideal, but it would do for immediate purposes, so Hiko nodded in approval. Idly, he stoked the fire and checked on the water - it was starting to boil.

The boy laid down the wet clothes to dry on the grass.

Those hands really didn't look good. Exhaling, he controlled the flash of temperament - the kid was hesitant about him, as he damn well should be. Coming on with too much force would only scare the waif away, he reasoned and toned down his voice from commanding to calm; "Boy. Come here. I want to take a look at your hands."

The boy – Kenshin - glanced up at him, but came closer with only a brief hesitating pause.

Clearly some of the ice was broken.

The offered hands were tiny and in comparison were swallowed by Hiko's.

As he had thought.

Hands were filled with ill healed scratches and scrapes, and some of them had clearly opened up multiple times. Washing in the water had cleaned away the dirt, but it only served to make it clearer that few of the scratches could cause complications; one in the left palm, second in the side of the thumb... and two quite deep ones near the right hand's fingertips. The water softened pale skin showed some reddening near the deeper wounds, suggesting possible infection.

Not quite as bad as he had feared, but not a good thing either.

The wounds would need to be cleaned and kept clean. The lack of puss told that the infection hadn't sunk in fully, but it was a close call - anything could happen. It was almost a miracle that the blood rot hadn't claimed the fingers. For gods' sake, the boy had handled corpses without anything to protect his hands with - with open wounds!

_It was pure idiocy._ Hopefully it indicated only lacking knowledge, which he could take steps to correct, rather than poor thinking ability…

No sense of fretting over it now. Hiko shook his head and said with a firm, calm voice; "We need to clean these wounds, boy."

The kid looked up at him, glanced at the path leading to the lake front and back at him, clearly confused.

"No. Water is not enough. Not for wounds that have been near unclean things. In fact, all wounds should be cleaned and kept clean like this, so it's good a lesson for you". Hiko had let the boy's hand fall from his grip, while he considered his options.

He would need something to tie up the wounds to keep them clean. Normally this wouldn't be an issue, but the supplies he currently carried were quite meager. After being on the road for quite a while and never encountering immediate problems, he hadn't felt the need to stay stocked. The lack of foresight would be the cause of never ending problems for him, his master had always told him. Before today, he hadn't really understood the point in the old bastard's constant nagging.

A few shredded strips from his shirtsleeve, donated by an increasingly bewildered waif, become serviceable bandages. Few minutes in boiling water rendered the strips sufficiently clean. The kid's eyes followed all his actions, never losing track and kept demanding explanations that he found himself offering casually, without thinking.

_It had been years since he had spoken freely like this_, and unconsciously Hiko began to relax.

Until it was time for the ugly phase.

"Boy, hands."

Obediently, the boy held them out.

He took his sake, took hold of the left hand - that palm wound really was an ugly one - and warned; "This will hurt"

Poured the sake…

The boy yowled and tried to pull the hand away.

Hiko didn't let him; instead he let the bottle down and rubbed the alcohol into the wound. The boy had tears in his eyes and desperately tried fight the pain.

_Good boy_, he thought and nodded in approval and took hold of the bottle again.

"Next, the thumb."

* * *

The boy panted, and blinked to clear the tears out of his eyes.

Sake in wounds_ hurt._

He wasn't sure why the man-spirit Hiko-san did this, but he didn't seem to enjoy causing the boy pain… and he had given the boy his shirt. _No one did that._ _Especially not, when the man-spirit didn't have a spare and the morning was cold - _so he was willing to trust the man-spirit for now and let him do this crazy thing.

The wounds throbbed and the sake burned, but the thing was that the intense flashes didn't last long, which gave the boy encouragement to fight the pain. _Soon, it will be over… just a little bit more_, he chanted in his head and tried to find distractions.

It really was odd thing to do, to pour Sake into wounds. The boy had never tasted the drink, but he had seen father do so and knew that it was expensive. To waste that much money on washing seemed just stupid. It had to have a point in it; no one would waste money like that without a reason. Maybe the spirit-friend would know?

His friend answered with an image of older man cleaning another man's ugly and large wound with Sake. _So other people did that too, which meant it wasn't just something that the crazy man-spirit's in white cloaks did..._

'So it helps?' The boy thought to the spirit.

The petting comfort feeling.

The man-spirit took hold of his right hand and the boy was pulled back to reality. The scratches didn't seem so bad in the palm, he thought clinically. Man-spirit seemed to agree and concentrated on cleaning the deeper cuts at the fingertips. The boy hissed as the Sake hit the wound, but his eyes didn't water anymore. He was getting used to the feeling.

Then the man-spirit was finished.

"Just let your hands dry out and don't touch anything. Not if you don't want me to clean the wounds with sake again."

The boy boggled in surprise; _again, just for touching something?_ He shuddered and shook his head vigorously.

The man-spirit smiled and let out a small breathy laugh, then; "Good boy."

For some reason, the words felt really good. It had been a while since anyone had said it to him, so-

He smiled in return.

* * *

The rest of the night had gone well after that. Hiko had fetched more water, finally managed to cook the rice for dinner and given the boy some. The kid – Kenshin - had taken the food and then dashed to the bed roll… and returned with some dried fish that he had offered in return.

A simple exchange.

Hiko didn't know what to think of it, so he hadn't made a comment. Instead he had accepted the offering and turned to his own meal, which had provided the next hurdle - the utensils. Hiko's travel supplies carried only one pair of chopstick and the kid had freshly cleaned hands with clean bandages.

He might be a proud and educated man, but even he could abandon decorum to eat with fingers in dire situations. It wasn't like the rice was particularly difficult food for that anyways. The dried fish softened among the rice nicely, and wasn't as distasteful to eat.

At the corner of his eye, he did keep an eye out for his little walking mystery.

Kenshin used the chopstick like a native.

_Hmmm, maybe the boy had been born here and at least one of the parents had been Japanese?_ It would explain this unspoken knowledge of the proper way of living. Curiosity flared - perhaps it was a proper time to start unraveling this little ball of mixed messages.

"Boy, where are you from?"

The kid paused, and looked up from the rice bowl. He chewed, swallowed and then tilted his head in obvious question… receiving no other prompt the boy frowned, and finally answered; "The mountain."

Well, that told Hiko absolutely nothing. Japan was filled with mountains, everywhere one travelled in the country, the mountains always loomed. Perhaps he should try again with different words, but… what was the chance that the kid would know the exact place on a map that Hiko didn't have, or that even knowing the location would be of any use? Japan didn't have many foreigners, but they always stayed near the capital or larger harbors now that black ships had forcefully opened the country for foreign trade just two years ago.

It was an unspoken fact that no foreigner would be able to go to the back country, and the kid's accent couldn't be from anywhere else.

He frowned and wondered how to form the question that he really wanted to ask. If the location wasn't essential, perhaps the parent's would give him better clue. So he tried from another angle; "Was anyone in your family different?"

"Me. The villagers called me bad luck."

Damn it all to hell, Hiko cursed silently and shook his head; _time to abandon the polite circling of the issue._

"Who was the foreigner in your family?"

"What does foreigner mean?" The boy countered with innocent wide blue eyes.

Hiko crunched his teeth in frustration, temper flaring - he really wanted to hit something.

A clattering noise interrupted his stewing and immediately he looked up. The boy had dropped the rice bowl and was crawling backwards, face white with terror.

Immediately Hiko controlled his flaring ki.

And just like that, the look of utter terror disappeared from the boy's face, but he stayed away still looking rather more like a scared animal than a human child.

_Only logical, the boy didn't trust him yet. But still, such a harsh reaction for simple flare of temperament? The kid must have been beaten or perhaps- No, unlikely in the extreme. No child could feel ki without training, that timing was just a coincidence. _

_And now is definitely not the time to think more on that._ He sighed; the fits of temper were not something he could afford right now. Not if he wanted to build the trust between them, and murmured: "Come back here. I won't hit you."

With that, Hiko returned to his own meal.

The waif took a while to come back near the fire and to pick up the bowl.

_Oh well, back to square one._

Exhaustion had started to weigh on him; it had been a long night and the dawn was already breaking. He really wasn't up to this right now. "Let's take a rest. I will wake you when we move out."


	6. Memory

Chapter 5. Memory

The boy woke to clattering noises. Someone was moving close to him! Without a second thought, he had already dashed away from the sound. His heart was trying to leap away from his chest as he shook and stared in crazed fright.

_Oh._

It was just the man-spirit, kneeling by the fire - his brow raised in a mocking question.

The boy felt really silly.

Ashamed, really.

The man-spirit hadn't harmed him in any way, thus far at least, so why was he still scared?

No answers forthcoming – the boy inhaled deeply, trying to calm his panicky breathing. It was midday, judging by the sun that was high on a cloudy sky. He must have slept for hours and hours… but oddly, he still felt really tired.

The man-spirit Hiko-san was setting up a fire. _Maybe they would eat again?_ The boy's stomach growled hopefully.

"Here, go fill this by the lake."

Pulled from his thoughts, the boy went to take the offered kettle hesitantly and headed for the lake. A yell sounded from behind him; "And don't get your hands wet!"

The boy smiled at this sign of caring. _No, he shouldn't be so afraid._

The downward path was easier to walk this time, though he had to lift the hem of the large shirt to avoid tripping. The ground had dried and thus wasn't as slippery, and sunlight certainly helped. The trees were painted in autumn colors; reds and yellows. Some leaves had already dropped. The weather had been getting steadily colder… _it would have been horrible to sleep in the damp clothing. _

The loaned shirt was really warm.

He crouched at the lake shore and considered the kettle in hand, then his carefully wrapped hands. The man-spirit's threat of cleaning the wounds again came to his mind. So, carefully, the boy took hold of the handle and tipped the kettle in the water, tilted and lowered it.

The water gushed in and the boy smiled in satisfaction.

The lake was really pretty in the daylight, too. It didn't feel so bad to look at it this time, he decided. Feeling better than in weeks, the boy made his way back to the camp.

* * *

Hiko hadn't slept long, just a few hours. It wasn't unusual for him, as he had spent the better part of the last years avoiding dreams. Sun was already high up in the sky when he finally sat up and stretched... the old wound in his back smarted like a bitch. Some bends and winces later, he had come to a firm conclusion that sleeping with only his cloak as cover wasn't to be done ever again. Not if it could somehow be avoided.

He had almost recovered his bearings when an odd and faint snuffling sound caught his ear. There was no one there but him and the kid… where was that coming from? A flexing of his aura confirmed they were alone.

So, it _was_ the kid?

Kenshin had made the bed next to the fire, but on the opposite side of him. In fact, as far as possible, while still being able to enjoy the warmth. _Hardly a surprising action, all in all._ Now, the kid slept like a curled up animal – a small still bundle. The only thing that gave away that the boy was still alive, was the steady rise of chest and that odd soft snuffling sound.

_It was almost cute._

He shook his head, appalled. Of all the things…

In any case, they were in no hurry to go anywhere and he, too, needed a bath. Also, it would be a good chance to wash the clothes - he glanced again at the sleeping kid wearing his shirt. Well, it was hardly a priority. Better let kid sleep while he could…

It was a few hours later, at noon, when the kid finally woke up. Hiko was aware of the kid's awakening from the change in breathing and the feel of ki, but hadn't let that stop his chores. A slightly too loud pang of kettle against the firewood and the half-awake kid dashed away from him in fright. Hiko didn't react, already having expected such a reaction from the jumpy child. Instead, he just raised his brow in question and reined in the sarcastic comment rising automatically on his lips.

The kid had enough issues and commenting on them wouldn't help either of them.

An embarrassed blush told that he had made a correct choice. So, continuing on a hunch, he diffused the awkward situation by sending the boy off to get some water. Maybe he was getting a hang of this. After all, it wasn't that difficult to guess the boy's actions, because…_ more than anything else, the kid –Kenshin - behaved like any battle-worn and stressed man would in similar situations, or just like himself-_

It wasn't a line of thinking he wanted to pursue, least of all while he was sober. 

The fire was going nicely when the kid returned. The rice was set to boil over the fire and he noted aloud that the boy's bandages seemed clean enough.

The answering smile was… sweet.

The boy was still in the loaned shirt, he noted. Before he had set off to sleep, he had taken time to set the kid's damp clothing on the lower branches of a nearby willow. By now they would be as dry as they would get, so he took them down and offered them to the boy.

Kenshin smiled in thanks and he nodded in answer.

Returning to the cooking, he added some of his last few pieces of dried meat to soften up with the rice. He wasn't one for idle conversation, so the kid's continuous silence was, well, comfortable. Peripherally he was aware that children were loud and energetic creatures, full of annoying questions and needless chatter. Compared to that, this silence between him and Kenshin felt like a blessing, but on the other hand, what if-

Sound of shuffling of feet nearby pulled him out of his musings. The boy was standing close to him, looking like he wanted something.

Ah, of course.

The shirt.

Hiko calmly accepted the offering, and considered the situation, "Just sit down. The food will be done soon."

_Why hadn't the boy spoken to him? Wouldn't it have been easier to get his attention with words, instead of that hesitant play with the feet? _While it wasn't hard to understand the boy, and he knew that the boy could speak if he wanted to, this silence started to seem more peculiar. After all, compared to what he knew to be normal behavior for children, this was anything but.

Should he do something about it?

On one hand he would risk losing this comfortable state of affairs. Hiko didn't like people and had made an art form out of avoiding them and their constant chatter and never ending complaints. On the other hand, the kid had seen horrible things - it wouldn't do to let him dwell on those.

And Hiko was curious about the boy.

So.

"You know, kid, you can talk to me." He said aloud, testing a theory. Thus far, the only times he had heard the kid speak had been in answer to prompting.

Silence.

He dared a covert look.

The boy had settled down on his bedding, staring into the distance.

_Head in the clouds, again - what was with that?_ Dismayed, Hiko stoked the merrily crackling fire between them.

"What are you?" a soft voice asked.

_Huh?_

"What do you mean?" Hiko countered, intrigued.

"You feel cold and big." The boy said while staring at the ground, picking at the grass.

Hiko felt his brow rise in surprise. _What the hell? What did that mean? Felt cold? Big?_

Hmmm, but maybe- _No, it wasn't possible. _But then again – so far the kid had been constantly denying his assumptions and if it was so...

Curious, Hiko slowly let his ki flare up.

The boy immediately scrambled backwards.

There was no mistaking it the second time -_ the kid could feel ki._

A rare talent – unprecedented, even. Usually only those who had been trained in the arts could feel ki. Even among those, it wasn't a common ability. Hiko had known that the kid was special, after all Kenshin's own spirit felt unusually well defined, he just hadn't realized how special. _Oh yes, the boy would be perfect for Hiten Mitsurugi. _

For the spiritually aware, Hiko's presence would feel significantly different. He had spent years under the careful tutorage of the old Bastard, mastering the use of the ki for his sword training. And like a muscle, using the spiritual energy would strengthen it, so it would feel "big" as the boy had put it. Coldness was just the feel of lingering death and willingness to hurt. _When the old bastard had attacked him during the final training, Hiko had felt like the air itself had frozen up._

So, it all made sense.

Hmmm, but if the boy could feel ki so well and had a large spirit, did it mean that the boy had used it before? Maybe, well – it was something to consider in the future.

But for now it wasn't a priority…

"Calm down. I am not going to hurt you." He said. "You can feel my spiritual presence. It's what causes the feeling of coldness." He explained.

The boy tilted his head… and hesitantly crawled back.

"Spiritual… like a spirit?"

"Yes."

"Where did you get it?"

"Get it? You cannot get it anywhere, everyone has a potential for it. You just need to learn to use it." Hiko explained, feeling absolutely ridiculous. Of all the notions…

"…huh."

Hiko shook his head, scoffed.

_Completely ridiculous._

He was acutely reminded exactly why he tended to avoid people… thank gods that the rice looked to be almost ready. A breakfast, then back to the road and he wouldn't have to deal with the nonsense for the day.

* * *

_So, the swordsman – Hiko-san was a man, not a spirit._ The boy had been wondering about that since the moment he had first seen him, and hadn't been able to decide for sure. For him, Hiko-san had felt more like his spirit-friend than a man… although he still looked human.

The rest of the Hiko-san's explanation of spirits or spiritual presence had made no sense at all to the boy, and he hadn't dared to question the man more. _At first it had sounded like Hiko-san, too, had a spirit-friend… _but when asked about it, Hiko-san had stared the boy like he had grown another head.

Asking another question after that reaction had been just too scary. Hiko-san didn't seem like a person who had any patience for stupidity. _And if asking about important things like spirits had raised his ire, what else would? _

So the boy had stayed silent as they shared the meal like the night before. Hiko-san had given rice and the boy had shared the dried fish. It was only fair, and until the boy knew the swordsman better, he wasn't going to take anything without giving something in return. It was partly because mother had taught him to share his food, and Hiko-san didn't seem to have much more than he did. But, also – the boy felt like he would owe something to Hiko-san if he just took things.

And the boy didn't want that. The spirit-friend agreed.

So after breakfast, they had gathered their belongings and taken to the road. Hiko-san had set the pace again and the boy had to almost run to keep up with it. While they travelled, the swordsman didn't look back or question him further… which turned the boy to talk with his spirit-friend for company. He was getting better at walking and thinking at the same time.

It was almost a nice way to travel.

The two friends talked about a lot of things during those hours. Often the talk wasn't about anything important, just observations about the things that the boy saw and was curious about… and while the spirit couldn't talk back, the boy had grown better at understanding the images and emotions the spirit sent. It also seemed that the spirit was getting better at it too, or maybe they were just learning to understand each other better.

In any case, the boy was not alone and didn't mind walking in silence.

Sometimes, though, the boy would talk to his friend about better times; of family and Kasumi… and even the almost-older-sisters Akane and Sakura. And sometimes, they would talk about Hiko-san. Neither of the two could make their minds about the swordsman. On the other hand, Hiko-san had promised to teach them to use the sword, but then again, he hadn't done anything about it during these travel filled days. Instead, he had just cleaned their wounds, shared food and stuff with them… and asked a lot of questions during the meals.

The questions ranged from things like where the boy had lived, what his family had been like, what they had looked like, how long had he been with the slavers, what had that been like…

And then Hiko-san had asked what the boy knew and could do.

So, the boy had told Hiko-san that he didn't know how to read or write. He had proudly told he knew how to count to five –it was all he had needed before, and he remembered the lesson well; one number for each family member. When Hiko inquired about his age though, he couldn't even guess. The boy hadn't paid attention to numbers higher than he could count, and Hiko-san's description of 'eras' and 'years' was –_ complicated_. Back at home, the seasons were what mattered.

Nevertheless, the boy had answered all the questions as well as he could, but Hiko-san was rarely happy with the answers. Most often the swordsman would get frustrated or even angry, and it was almost impossible to know what would set the man's temper off. The boy was scared of these fits of temper at first, but always after a flare of spirit, some ugly expressions or swearwords muttered in a low voice – Hiko-san would tell the boy to calm down and that he wouldn't hit him.

Slowly, the boy was beginning to trust Hiko-san, though the spirit-friend was still hesitant. However, they had realized fairly soon that while the swordsman would easily get angry, he was really good at controlling the bursts of anger and wasn't a danger to them.

So.

The boy listened and watched.

They weren't sure if Hiko-san would keep them, so they learned how to do things by watching the swordsman's example. Important things, like how to cook rice, to make a camp fire, bandage hands and to clean the wounds - all the things that the boy hadn't known how to do before.

Thus passed the days travelling with a swordsman, who felt cold and was never happy.

* * *

The kid fell quite painlessly with Hiko's way of living. Well, he had to stop more often than he was used to, but it was expected. Comparing to his previous doubts about taking an apprentice - that he would have to change to accommodate some spoiled brat - Kenshin was almost a blessing in disguise. In every way, the boy was an easy person to travel with for the most part; didn't talk unless he was prompted to, never complained or demanded anything.

While Hiko had some misgivings about whether he should encourage the boy to show more normal childish behavior, it didn't seem to be necessary. In any case, a normal child would never be able to handle the training to come. _Did it matter if Kenshin was slightly too obedient and silent?_

The sword of Mitsurugi demanded a lot from the practitioners and the kid already seemed to fulfill easily those demands; good mind, kind heart, strong will and able ki.

Speaking of the spiritual presence, now that Hiko was aware and paid attention – he noticed that the kid was constantly using his ki while they travelled. The spiritual aura would flow around the boy like water and occasionally it would flare. The dismaying part was that it all seemed be connected to the boy's 'head in the clouds' habit. For the moment, Hiko was willing to overlook the annoying tendency. _Whatever the boy was doing, it seemed to be quite efficient training._

Travelling and eating healthily was steadily increasing the boy's stamina and the hands were healing without too many complications. He had cleaned them every evening until the reddening near the edges had vanished and the scratches had scabbed. Two deeper wounds had developed puss, but piercing them and draining the slime twice had done the trick. All in all, Hiko was quite pleased with the physical fitness of his new apprentice.

What he didn't like, however, was the boy's lack of education. If he didn't want to have an uneducated halfwit as an apprentice, it seemed that Hiko would have to start teaching the kid the basics of reading and writing as soon as possible. And counting, he couldn't ignore the numbers - the kid couldn't even tell his age properly!

Hmmph!

But then again, what else could he have expected from a mixed blood slave child?

He was becoming quite sure that the boy had some foreign blood, but was born and raised in Japan. As for his age, well - Hiko was leaning with his estimations towards the upper end of the 'five to ten'-scale. It was mostly based on a hunch; the kid was too calm and unassuming, and that ki…

So, nine or ten - but small for his age.

It was a good age for swords training and most children started around then. _So had he, once upon a time._

The trust between them had been building up quite nicely too, and Hiko didn't have to be so careful around the boy now; it seemed that the boy wasn't so scared of him anymore. True, the kid still kept a distance, didn't initiate any action without a clear cue from him… but it was becoming obvious that he could soon start teaching the boy more.

The question was where to start.

_Back when he had begun his apprenticeship, the swords training had been the obvious choice._ _Ki had come along years later. _And even though Kenshin seemed to be aware of the spiritual energy, it really wasn't a good aspect to start up with. No, better go with the training schedule he knew…

For swords training, he would need to get the boy a blade – a short one, though. Maybe a wakizashi could do.

Yes.

But it should be heavy enough to build some muscle on those sticky arms… perhaps an older, second hand blade, but one with a good balance to save on the costs.

And, now that winter was coming he would need to get the kid more clothes. Those rags had worked well enough for now, but wouldn't be warm enough for travelling in snow. Speaking of winter, he too would need supplies.

The money pouch hanging on his waist was noticeably light.

Hmmm…

It seemed that he would have to find a job.

* * *

They were in a village. The boy looked around curiously, but stayed close to Hiko-san. The village was a lot larger than home had been, and it was bustling with people. Maybe it was because there were a lot of roads leading to it, compared to the only one leading to home. Come to think of it, home had been a lot higher in the mountains too, so it would have been harder for all the people to get there. Hiko-san had said that this village was called Tokoyama and it was in the Suo domain.

This, of course, didn't mean anything to the boy and the boy gave Hiko-san a baffled look, just so that roused an answering scoff in the swordsman, and gruff advice to pay attention to names; knowing them would help the boy to know where he was and find a way back if needed.

It was a leading revelation to the boy. Thus far, names had only been important to tell apart two similar people from one another – like mother and second mother Kasumi. But it must be same for places… and if he just knew the name of the place and asked for directions, the place would be always there.

_He didn't know what the village in the mountains had been named. It hurt, for some reason. It wasn't that he wanted to go back there, but… it would have been nice to know that he could, if he wanted to._

Needless to say, the boy started paying attention to the names.

The village center had a of lot different vendors and there were merchants and wagons on the road side. Every now and then, Hiko-san would take time to talk to people. The more people he talked to, the colder he felt and the scowl on his face grew harsher. The boy suspected that it was because of all the noise and people; the swordsman didn't talk to the boy much either, and having to talk to so many people must be a real struggle.

However, seeing that scowl… it was relieving in a way, because it meant that it wasn't just the boy the swordsman didn't like - it was just the way he was.

_Like the spirit-friend._

Hiko-san had said that they needed to find a job, and that the village would be a good place to find one. Knowing that before coming to the village had been comforting, because it meant that the swordsman wasn't trying to get rid of him or to sell him.

The boy didn't want to be alone and travelling with Hiko-san hadn't been bad.

_But what if Hiko-san had just said those words, but hadn't really meant them… _

The boy couldn't follow the conversations between the swordsman and the strangers well, but he kept an ear out for bad words. If anything was said about selling people or the odd words Ine-sama had used while haggling with the scary man Hideo, he resolved to run away. _He wouldn't be sold again, no matter what. He knew enough now to survive alone_,_ if necessary._

Then Hiko-san stopped to buy rice from an old woman. It was odd to watch that, because for some crazy reason the swordsman _didn't haggle_, just paid the first price she asked. _It was - stupid. But Hiko-san didn't seem like a stupid man, so why would he..._

Every time the boy had seen mother or father - or even old Ine-sama - buy anything, there had been a lot of haggling.

Father had explained that it was a game between the seller and the buyer. The seller would ask for too much and the buyer would offer too little. Then they would play a game over the price, and winner would be the one who stayed closer to the price he started with and got the other to agree. It had sounded like a really fun game to the boy, and he had liked to watch father to play it.

Father had been good at it.

Hiko-san didn't even try to play.

_It couldn't be that Hiko-san had too much money. No, if he had, he wouldn't be trying to find a job. So why didn't he play?_ The boy wondered; _he would have to ask about it later_. For now, Hiko-san's coldness, or ki as the older man called it, was spiking up in annoyed flickers. Lately, the boy had been getting better at following the feeling of coldness, and figuring out what it meant. Right now Hiko-san was definitely nearing the boiling point of his temper. Soon there would be swearing…

"Damn it all to hell. How hard can it be to find a merchant travelling out of the town? It's not even snowfall yet!"

And the coldness… fizzled. _Huh? That was it?_

"What if you don't find a job?" The boy hesitantly asked. Normally he wouldn't have dared, not yet, especially when Hiko-san's ki had felt so angry just moments ago - but if the swordsman couldn't find a job, what would he do for the money? He didn't have much to sell…

"Hmmph. Then we need to keep trying, maybe in another village."

The boy relaxed minutely, somewhat comforted and nodded to the swordsman.

Mere moments later, the boy saw people turning to the western road. Back home, when people behaved so, it had meant that someone new was coming in. Hiko-san didn't seem to notice it as he was preoccupied with a vendor behind them.

_Hiko needed money, but no merchant in the town seemed to need Hiko-san's help... _Necessity driving him, the boy coughed.

Hiko-san didn't seem to hear him.

_What if someone else needs a job too, and gets there first?_ _Hiko-san needed money._ So, the boy did something he would have never done before, and dared to tug at the swordsman's cloak.

_A raised brow - curious, not angry. _

The boy exhaled in sheer relief and pointed to west; "Someone is coming."

Hiko-san looked and frowned.

"Huh. Well, let's check it out."

* * *

Old man Asano was a merchant and Hiko-san and the boy were travelling with him for now. The swordsman had a job of protecting the merchant, old man Asano drove the wagon pulled by a big ox – and the boy, well, didn't know what he was supposed to do. So, he just followed Hiko-san just like before.

Apparently, the old man Asano had been left behind by a bigger merchant caravan earlier, because his wheel had broken down badly and he couldn't fix it fast enough. _It was a mean thing to do, leave someone behind and even worse for such a small reason, _the boy thought, but said nothing. 

In any case, the merchant was in hurry to sell his stuff in Hiroshima, in Aki domain, before the snowfall came - or so he had told Hiko-san. Old man Asano hadn't been happy to hire the Hiko-san at first, and had loudly protested that a single swordsman as a protection was as good as an invitation to the bandits. So the merchant had suggested that Hiko-san would take a message to another village, and bring back more guards. Hiko-san's coldness had been boiling so badly that the boy had wanted to run and hide, rather than follow the argument – but finally the swordsman had calmed down and managed to convince the merchant to hire him. Old man Asano had taken a really long time to agree, and even so it was 'only because of the hurry.'

So here they were.

Travelling was easier now with old man Asano and his wagon slowing the space… _but it wasn't nice._ Just like the villagers back home - the merchant didn't like him at all and would stare at him, but never talk to him.

Already the boy had heard Asano say "Demon" and "Foreigner" to Hiko-san.

The boy really didn't like those words.

They had been travelling for two days now, and both nights at the camp fire, old man Asano had sat next to Hiko-san and started talking. Instead of being allowed to listen in and eat in peace, the merchant ordered the boy do chores. It wasn't that he minded doing the chores, not really. It was easy enough to fetch water or pick up firewood and the boy wasn't lazy, he had been taught better. But he didn't like the way Asano did it. The merchant would command harshly, never looking at him and expected the boy to obey immediately - it reminded him of scary man Hideo.

Hiko-san didn't seem to think it odd, so the boy did as he was told.

But for some reason, he felt lonelier than he had been since the graveyard. He had tried to spend time with his spirit-friend during the day's travelling, but hadn't noticed when Asano had suddenly slowed the pace and as a result the boy had stumbled right into the wagon. "Is there something wrong with the kid?" Old man Asano had asked Hiko-san with an ugly voice, and the boy could hear the unspoken 'stupid runt' clearly. The swordsman had scoffed, but hadn't answered.

Feeling ashamed, the boy hadn't dared to try talking with the spirit-friend since. _After all, only a simpleton would walk into things… and Hiko-san wouldn't want a stupid student._

With no one to talk to and no one talking to him - he was feeling lonely with people again.

Another thing that was making him feel really bad was the dreams. These past few days travelling with Hiko-san, just curling up on bedroll was enough to fall asleep. But now with the slow travelling space, he just wasn't tired enough at the end of the day, and would remember bad things and continue seeing them in his sleep. Often he would wake up in the middle of the night panting and tears stinging in his eyes - feeling really, really scared. He would see Kasumi's dark pleading eyes, her soft mouth that had been like mother's and the sword tearing though her throat.

Clutching her top in his hands, the boy kept hoping that it would keep the bad dreams away.

It didn't work very well.

During the fourth day of travel they reached a domain border post. The boy had seen a few of those when he was with the slave caravan, but for some reason, passing it felt scarier now with only Hiko-san and the mean old merchant with him. The samurai, who was guarding the border post, asked old man Asano and Hiko-san questions, but the way he talked was so odd that it was really hard to understand. _It was even worse than the way Hiko-san talked, with all the difficult words and weird way of saying even the normal things… _

So, it was no wonder that the meaning of talk escaped the boy and he drifted off, only to catch the tail end of Hiko-san's speech; "…a ronin, here are the travel passes. The boy, Kenshin, is with me."

_Kenshin? Who was that? His name was-_

_'…too soft, from now on you will be...' _

_Oh._

He had almost forgotten that Hiko-san had given him a new name. It wasn't like anyone actually used it. To Hiko-san, he was always just a "boy." And, of all the people, only Hiko-san would talk _to him_. At the crossroad village, Tokoyama, the vendors and other people had talked about him like he was not there or… well. Some of them had been like old mean man Asano and called him bad names.

He didn't know what to think of names, really. It made sense that places had names so that people could find them, like Hiko-san had told him. But what was the point of giving names to children? Even before, when he had been Shinta, no one had called him that. Well, no one but mother that is. To his brothers, he had been "crybaby" or "tiny." Father had called him "son" or every now and then when he was displeased "boy", but even then he had said it gently. _Not that he could remember any time it had happened, but it had been so. He was sure of that… _The boy frowned; surely he should remember it all better?

In any case, even to Kasumi he had been "Shinta-chan." _So, maybe names where what only mother's would call you by?_

No, that wasn't right.

Hiko-san was Hiko-san, and old Ine-sama had been also called by her name. Like old man Asano and scary man Hideo. So. _Maybe it was an adult thing? If you were an adult, you could tell what your name was to people and people would respect it - not make their own mind?_

Abruptly the boy was pulled from his thoughts by a loud noise from the forest. Immediately alert, and shaking slightly he was ready to dash off-

_Oh, no. _

_Not again._

There was a pile of logs laid down on the road and a bandit was standing in front of the blockade - sword half raised, teeth bared in an ugly grin.

The grin faded slightly, when Hiko-san stepped forward and pulled his long sword out of the scabbard too, and spoke calmly; "Let us through, or be prepared to meet your gods".

The bandit's mouth fell slack for a minute, and then a terrifying loud guffawing laugh filled the silence.

It continued on and on.

Hiko-san's coldness flickered in annoyance, but the swordsman in white didn't do anything. Just waited.

Then, finally the bandit fell silent, wiped his eyes and stated; "Thanks for the laugh. But, joker – we do have you outnumbered. So, dog… who the hell do you think you are to demand us anything?"

"Your death."

"Oh really?" The bandit scowled, "I'll enjoy carving up the mark of hopelessness into your severed head and watch the beasts tear your corpse into pieces. Men, let's show this arrogant sod what he is dealing with!"

More bandits stepped out of the forests on both sides of the road. There were too many for him to count, at least as much as had attacked the slave caravan... Old man Asano was white with terror and shaking on the driver's seat, even the big ox pulling the wagon seemed scared. _Nowhere to go, too many… what to do, whattodo- _the underside of the wagon was dark, the afternoon sun cast deep shadows. _Maybe they hadn't noticed him yet… it didn't hurt to try. _

_Perhaps it was hopeless, but it was the only thing he could do – _so,the boy crawled under the wagon.

The bandits were circling Hiko-san, and they were grinning like it was the best game ever.

Then Hiko-san took a step forward and the standstill broke.

The bandits attacked him.

_Oh no… not Hiko-san too-_

The boy hadn't really wanted to think about what had happened earlier at the slave caravan massacre. _Had wanted to forget it, really. _For him, seeing blood wasn't all that scary. It was just like red … seeing that bandit fall in pieces,_ just like the one on the moonlight clearing of the massacre night…_

And then, the smell of blood -

S_creaming slave girls, desperate escape from the bandits that surrounded the caravan. / Screaming, shouting... panting. / Trying to run with Kasumi, scary men following them. / Akane falling down with twisted leg… Sakura stopping to help. / The almost-older-sisters trying to protect him… the scary man lifting Kasumi by her hair… Kasumi pleading him to live… live. Shinta. _

_Live. Shinta. _

_Live. _

_Live. For her. Live._

KENSHIN!

Hiko-san was shaking him by the shoulders. Shouting something. His dark eyes were frowning and the white cloak had blood staining it.

It was silent.

_Oh._

They were in the middle of the road.

There was the wagon and the ox…. and old man Asano, frowning…

"Put the boy on to the back." Asano growled. "We need to move out."

And Hiko-san lifted him like a shaking broken toy and laid him down at the back of the wagon.

"Stay here and try to breathe, boy. It was just a memory."

And then the wagon started moving and the boy curled on his side, searched for his top. Clutched it tight in his hands.

"A memory..?"

* * *

When the boy woke up it was dark and his head was hurting really bad, it was like something was constantly hitting his forehead and right behind his eyes. Taking his time to open his eyes, he noticed that Kasumi's top was still in his hands. Feeling it gave him a sense of reality. He knew where he was - in the back of the merchant wagon on his way to Hiroshima. The boy was not alone, no. He was travelling with Hiko-san, who had promised to teach him sword fighting. They were protecting old mean Asano-san.

The pounding hurt in his head was growing fainter, but he didn't feel like sitting up. It was warm here, _oh_… there was a blanket thrown over him.

It wasn't bad.

So the boy just snuggled closer into the blanket and laid there in the dark.

Slowly he began to hear voices, old man Asano and Hiko-san talking like they had done every night. He could almost hear what they said. He didn't feel like moving, but he was curious. Straining his ears, he tried to focus more... No. No clear words that he could recognize, just a steady mumble.

_What would the swordsman talk about?_ Adults spoke differently to each other… maybe Hiko-san would speak of the things the boy too wanted to know? Like about swords and using them? The few talks he had had with Hiko-san had been mostly about himself, and that wasn't interesting. _He knew so little about the swordsman still… _

It was the first time the boy had a chance to listen in to Hiko-san talking to someone.

He really wanted to. The other night that he had had the chance, old man Asano had sent him away to do chores. But now, there was a perfect chance and he couldn't make out the words. Dismayed, the boy asked his spirit-friend if it knew how they could listen in better.

The spirit-friend sent a confusing bundle of feelings. Helping. Asking. Willingness to help. Him?

'You want to help me, but can't?' The boy frowned.

Cold feel – no. Wanting to help. Asking. Agreeing. Giving permission..?

'I need to let you to help me?'

Petting agreement.

How could he do that? What was stopping the spirit from helping if it wanted? Perhaps… yes, it made sense; the only time the spirit could talk was when the boy had first talked to it. So there must be something stopping it…

The boy tried to feel the spirit, but – _huh_. _There was_ something between them. A wall?

How could he remove it?

The boy tried to push it, but it wouldn't move. It seemed to be really sturdy.

But… maybe…

Did he have to remove the whole thing? It was easier to just make a hole, and he was good at digging. So, he felt again the wall between him and his spirit friend, and could make out ridges. Huh, the wall must have been built from layers of things. He didn't know what the things were, but did try to pick at one.

_A warm feeling of mother hugging him._

The boy let go in surprise. What…?

Tried again.

And the same feeling flooded over him. _It felt so good, almost like he was back at home before the sickness._ The boy lifted it and moved it to the side, next to the spot where he was digging a whole.

He touched the second thing; _father smiling at him in approval, when he had shown him the bucked full of weeds that he had picked from the garden._

The boy could almost cry. He had no words how much he had missed these feelings; of belonging to a family, of people liking him, smiling at him. Of people actually looking and seeing him.

Should he touch these things? What were they? Why were they there?

Maybe they were supposed to be there?

The boy turned to lie on his back. It was so dark, probably close to midnight. He felt the top in his hands, and fiddled with it. _Why was there things separating the spirit-friend from him? And why did the things hold good memories?_

The boy wanted to feel the feelings in those memories. When he had done so, he hadn't felt so bad and alone. But then again, maybe if there was a hole in the wall, spirit friend could speak to the boy better?

And they could talk again while travelling?

The boy had so been lonely during these couple of days… and that scary memory thing today, or whatever it had been. He had been so scared. He hadn't even known that memories could be like that. _How had it happened? What caused it? Would it happen again? Hopefully not, it had been horrible. _He desperately wanted to talk about it with someone.

The slow murmuring continued in the background. He could probably go to the men and ask Hiko-san about the memories. The swordsman quite often answered the questions he asked, and _had known_ that the boy had seen memories - so, Hiko-san would be a good person to ask.

But old mean Asano was there too, and he didn't like the boy at all.

Suddenly, going to talk to the men lost all its appeal.

It was warm and nice here, and he had his blanket and his top. And in any case, the spirit-friend had been with him the longest, had helped him the most. It was always there, ready and willing to help.

It was almost no decision at all.

So, the boy started digging a hole in the wall between him and the spirit. Touching the things the wall was built of was nice; they were always warm and comforting. _Just for those he would have done this._ And knowing that it would help the spirit-friend?

Even better.

It was a slow going, and for some reason, experiencing the nice good feelings and memories holed in the wall were making him tired. The further he dug, the harder it became to lift and pile the things. But then, it was finally done, and the boy stepped back - allowing the spirit-friend's coldness to flow in a trickle through the hole.

He was rewarded by the petting comfort feeling and it was stronger than before.

'Good boy.'

The boy smiled, delighted and thought to the spirit; 'You can talk again!'

'Yes.'

The boy felt satisfied, 'Good.'

He had wanted to talk to the spirit-friend for a long time but hadn't known how. _So it had been because of the wall between them, huh. He would have to do something about it._ He thought sleepily and yawned deeply - _but later… when he wasn't this tired. _

Heavy steps crunched on sand.

_What..? _

_…he knew those steps, but - Oh. _The murmuring sounds of the men's conversation had stopped, and he hadn't even noticed.

A tall familiar shape came out of the darkness.

"Are you alright, boy?"

The boy nodded, warily and rubbed his eyes. It didn't help much - but this was important. "What happened? I saw the bandit on the road die…"

Hiko-san nodded grimly.

"I killed a few, rest ran away like the vermin they are, losing their courage." Hiko-san answered, and the following disdainful scoff told him loud and clear, what the swordsman thought of cowards. "You were screaming pretty loudly. What did you remember?"

Briefly, the boy wondered what he should tell. Not his feelings towards his almost-a-family, it was his pain. But, the rest - well, it wasn't like Hiko-san hadn't seen it; "That night – and Kasumi-san dying."

"Hmmm." Hiko-san looked away, rubbed his chin like he was thinking.

"It will probably happen again."

"Why?"

"When you see things that affect you strongly, the mind may bring those moments back and force you to relive them. It may happen anytime, but more likely when similar events occur. It's not very pleasant, but not something to be discouraged over, either. It happens; you face it and grow stronger because of it." The swordsman's voice sounded almost kind, "Use it to remind yourself of why you must get stronger, and what you want to protect."

Just like Hiko-san to use a lot of difficult words that the boy didn't understand on a topic that actually mattered a lot… he almost wanted to ask more, but, Hiko-san looked somewhat odd and his ki – _it didn't feel cold at all. _

His mouth fell slightly open in amazement, and the boy looked at the swordsman… slowly nodding. It was the first time he had ever felt Hiko to feel nearly - warm. He couldn't ruin it with any questions that would surely only to annoy the swordsman.

Then Hiko-san patted his shoulder, and it felt so very good. In that brief touch there was pride, acceptance, comfort – even caring. _Perhaps, Hiko-san didn't think badly of him… _

"Get some more sleep, Kenshin. We will head out early tomorrow."

This time he couldn't help the smile that rose to his lips.

As the boy watched the swordsman leave, he didn't feel so bad and alone anymore. How could he? The spirit friend could talk now. Hiko-san didn't feel so cold. And the older man had called the boy _by his name._

Everything would be okay.

The top in hand, he snuggled deeper into his blanket and slept.


	7. There can be only one

Chapter 6. There can be only one

Next day was almost perfect; the sun was warm and the road was all the way downhill. It was really easy to walk like that, it felt almost like running. What made this even better was that old man Asano was busy driving the wagon and Hiko-san walked ahead… leaving the boy alone to walk next to the wagon and practice the new way of talking with his spirit-friend.

It didn't take him long to realize that whatever the things the wall had been built of had been, digging a hole had been a great idea. Talking with the spirit like this was almost as easy as talking with a normal person. And he no longer had to keep figuring out what the spirit-friend was trying to say with all the emotions, pictures and memories… now _it could explain things to him_.

Not that it understood the things any better than the boy, but now the two could learn and compare their views. Their discussions, for instance, had made it clear that the spirit-friend found the living memory thing that had attacked the boy yesterday a really bad thing. The boy hadn't liked it either, but _both_ had agreed that it was a good reminder of why they needed to get stronger.

Neither of the two wanted to be helpless anymore and if anything, yesterday – when they had been hiding and hoping for the best, they had been useless to everyone.

Another thing that they agreed on was that the spirit didn't like old man Asano either. It wanted to do mean things to the old merchant to pay back for all the looks, words and bossy commands around, for treating them like they were still a slave. _While it would be pretty funny _to watch old man Asano curse nettles and burs in his underclothes, or fish out mud from his socks… the boy wasn't sure they should do that. He didn't want to be a bad boy, and now that Hiko-san had finally called him by his name, talked to him like he would speak to another person worth respecting – he couldn't do anything to disappoint Hiko-san. Maybe if he was good enough, the swordsman would finally begin teaching them to use the sword?

The spirit was of the opinion that he should ask the swordsman about the lessons, demand the older man to start teaching them. _But it would be so rude._ _And… maybe Hiko-san had a reason not to teach them yet?_

That evening when they made a camp, old man Asano put the boy to fetching things again. It was even more annoying now, because it looked like old man Asano wanted to convince Hiko-san of something. They would talk about the important things tonight; it was clear from the look in the merchant's intent eyes and the swordsman's oddly cautious ki. Hiko-san's coldness felt almost like it had been before the living memory, at the bandit's standstill_… _almost like it was saying_ 'tell me your piece and I will make my decision by it.'_

The merchant's behavior - worried the boy. Even the spirit-friend thought it odd, definitely something they should know about. But the way old man Asano blockaded them...

A different approach would be needed.

Instead of trying to join the men by the fire after the meal, the boy took his blanket and made his bed next to the wagon, quite a bit away from the men. It was still close enough to hear the murmur. Last night, the spirit-friend had an idea to listen in, hadn't it?

Laying on his back and holding Kasumi's top tightly in his hands – it felt calming – he got down to business with the spirit; 'So, how can we hear better?'

'What the boy hears with?' Hesitant, faint whisper asked.

'The ears,' he answered, confused. _Didn't everyone know this? But then again… the spirit had lived in a rock before…_

'What does one feel like to the boy?'

'Cold.'

_What was the point in this..? _

The spirit poked at a memory, one of the boy's – _the feeling of coldness flowing from the ugly stone to the boy, trickling through his hand like a stream of water_-

The boy's eyes widened in surprise, and his mouth fell slack. …._oh._ _He could push the spirit's coldness to his ears like that? And It would make him hear better..?_

The petting comfort feeling.

_That would be so awesome! Imagine the things he could learn like that, _he grinned in enthusiasm._ Old man Asano couldn't stop them from hearing important things again! They could finally learn things of Hiko-san, to understand the swordsman better and be sure they could trust him…_

_He definitely needed to learn this trick._

So, the boy tried to find the feeling of coldness inside him again. He couldn't touch the spirit's coldness on the other side of the wall, but some of it had streamed through the hole in the wall to his side, and that should be a fair game. Finding it easily in the form of a little floating droplet, he reached to touch-

…huh, it felt like water.

But how to move it? He tried to push it, but it just gave away and flowed around him. No matter how he pushed, it was hopeless. The droplet might move a bit to the right direction, but then it would break and escape around him like water and reform back…

Water - the coldness did look like water, felt like water….

Three brothers' had liked playing with the water._ On those summer days, when it rained they had spent hours and hours drawing small ditches in the mud to guide the water downhill… it had been really cool to see the water moving fast, gathering into puddles and going where they-_

That was it!

The petting agreement.

He couldn't draw ditches inside him, and the ears weren't downhill either - but the coldness was not water. It didn't need to move to downhill. But the droplet always became one, no matter how he had broken it, so if he led the coldness, a little by little…

_Yes. It did follow. _

It took some trying, but the boy learned to guide the coldness towards his ears. Finally it was near there, just a trickle of coldness…

_Every sound was so loud!_ _It hurt!_ Crackling of the fire. Old man Asano's voice; "…didn't know that you were the famous White Death..." Clattering buzz of cicadas. Hoot of an owl.

He shielded his ears with his hands, but of course it didn't help.

_The pain, it was too loud, too loud..._

Hoot. "…just a wanderer, really..." Crackle.

The spirit sent a distressed feeling, but it made everything feel _even worse! Like there was more coldness in his ears!_ Crunch. "…foreigners are not good for…" Crackle.

The boy let out a small cry, whimpered and tried to keep breathing to control the pain. He needed to guide the coldness away.

_Now!_

Buzz. "…Hiten Mitsurugi style is a…"

The boy tried to catch the droplet gathering to his ears, to touch it and _draw it away, away, now, gotta get it away... _

Pant. Almost there!

The overwhelming mess of noises dropped immediately. Boy was sweating and panting hard, eyes wild with shock. But then a triumphant smile formed in his face. _It worked! It really did work! The coldness really did help him to hear better!_

Now to do it again.

The spirit sent a hesitant feeling. Worry.

The boy just smirked, 'No. I will do better this time!'

Giving up. A fond warmth.

Then the petting comfort feeling.

* * *

The air smelt slightly of salt. It was weird and it kept reminding the boy of something, constantly tingling just out of reach… _like he should know this. _ He didn't have any idea what to make of it, so he concentrated on the other surroundings. They had finally reached low lands and were no longer going downhill. The wind kept shaking the treetops and the damp air just made the gust of wind feel very cold.

_Like it was winter, even though it wasn't, not yet. _

The road though was wide and flat, and they were not the only people travelling on it either. Every now and then they would see other people; men travelling alone, families travelling together and other merchant wagons pulled by horses or oxen.

Yesterday night, the boy had stayed up late to practice hearing better with the coldness. It was really tricky to get the trickle of coldness to be small enough to be useful. As it was, hearing too well made it just as impossible to make out words properly as hearing badly did.

He had tried to continue practicing it while walking, but it seemed to be even more complicated than talking with his friend with memories and feelings had been. Only a couple stumbles in inattention, and old man Asano looked at him like he was something really nasty and smelly.

The boy didn't continue trying after that.

But looking at the people travelling the road, and commenting on them with his friend, became a game to pass the time. Off course the spirit still didn't like people, but it was willing to try to figure out things with the boy.

So the boy watched the people and showed the spirit the things he found interesting, like the man wearing a funny hat. He didn't know what it was made of, having never seen anything like it. It did look weird, but it would probably keep sun out of the eyes and rain away from the hair. All in all, the boy decided after thinking it through, it would be a really nice hat to wear.

The spirit thought they should try to take it.

The boy disagreed, as he had learned to do early. The spirit usually had stupid ideas and wanted to do things that the bad boys did. He had tried to teach it to be better, but still, every now and then the spirit would get these weird ideas.

There was a family travelling together. There was a father and a mother… and a son. And a bundle on the mother's back. A small one there, too. It reminded the boy a bit of his own family, but it didn't hurt too badly to look at them. _Maybe sometime in the future he would learn to live with the pain so that it wouldn't hurt at all._

The spirit sent the petting comfort feeling.

'Thanks,' he answered, acknowledging the spirit friend's effort. It made him feel better to know the spirit cared.

Another merchant wagon, this one pulled by a horse. He hadn't seen many of them, and this one looked like a really nice big one. Its coat was brown and fuzzy, the dark hair a long slightly curly. The white marked nose looked particularly soft.

There was a man with two swords walking beside it. _A samurai guard?_ The man's hair was pulled up and he looked serious. Maybe like Hiko-san, he was keeping an eye out for bandits? Suddenly, the man saw him and stared. The dark eyes narrowed, and the samurai covered the hilt of his sword with his hand… then let go and grimaced in distaste, spitting out harshly, "Foreigner scum."

The tiny hairs at the back of the boy's neck stood up in sheer scare, and he slipped away… circling the old man Asano's wagon from behind and choosing to walk on the other side. 'What's with that foreigner thing?' he asked the spirit-friend.

'Don't know,' it answered, and added a feeling of confusion.

'And that spitting…' he felt quite insulted, really.

'Rude,' the spirit agreed.

An image of tripping someone to mud.

'Oh, I wish…' The boy agreed and smiled, then _countered with a memory of him slipping a frog into second brother's bedroll._

The spirit sent a warm feeling, one that felt a bit like a smile to the boy. And then sent another picture of the same sort.

The boy laughed.

The two exchanged ideas of what to do to the rude man for quite a long time. All were pretty mean things, but wouldn't hurt anyone badly. _It was almost like making up pranks with his older brothers, they too would have liked some of the ideas._

Old man Asano and Hiko-san decided to stop again when the sun was setting. The ox was led to eat grass from the roadside and the boy was given the task of fetching water for the rice. Hiko-san made the fire and cooked dinner with a pointed scowl on his face, while old man Asano settled to enjoy the warmth of the fire.

After the meal, the boy left again to his bed roll - he was on a mission. The men's conversation started again on the background. Settling down to a good comfortable position, he started to lead the coldness to his ears again; the trick seemed to be getting the coldness near his ears, let it to pool and then guide just one tiny drop to enhance his hearing.

Rustle of the wind in the treetops. Crackle of a fire. Old man Asano's voice: "…I cannot help but to tell you again Seijuuro-san, how impressed I was with that Hiten-thing you performed to destroy the road blockade. A pile of solid tree trunks, and with one move all were blown into shingles."

_Yes! This was exactly what he had wanted to hear…_

"It was Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu: Doryusen. Yes, it is an impressive attack." _Huh… Hiko-san's voice sounded really bored, not quite annoyed… but…_

"So it is! And that foreigners' child you have with… you say he is to be your student? Are you…"

And silence. The drop of coldness had run out. _Too soon!_ The boy's eyes were wide open… they were talking about him! The trick with the coldness had left his ears feeling sensitive, like hands scrubbed raw with sand.

_He had to hear this. Fast! It was important! _

Another drop of coldness.

"…I thought at first that the boy was your servant. A new one, or… forgive me, but those rags, bad manners and unruly behavior..."

"I know what you thought. The boy is a new to me, yes."

"But surely a fine sword master like you should have a better student? Taller, stronger… a proper Japanese boy? I happen to have a fourth son of suitable age…"

Again silence.

The boy panted haphazardly, eyes wild in panic. _Old man Asano had a son he wanted Hiko-san to train too?_

_ What if the swordsman would rather have Asano's son? Maybe the reason why Hiko-san hadn't yet started training the boy, was because he wasn't happy with him? Maybe the swordsman considered replacing the boy with a taller, stronger boy already? _

_No, no, no- _he shuddered.

The spirit sent the petting comfort feeling, but it didn't calm the boy at all - _this was horrible. _

_What if when they got to Hiroshima in a few days, Hiko-san would decide to sell the boy for money and take Asano's son instead?_

No. Hiko-san wouldn't do that. The swordsman had accepted the boy. Called him by his name. Healed his hands. Felt warm at him.

_No, it couldn't be true._

The boy needed to hear more, but his ears were starting to hurt from using the coldness. It didn't matter, this was more important!

Again - a drop of coldness to ears.

"…Hiten Mitsurugi style is a demanding style, only very few are even suitable candidates to practice it. And the tradition and practicalities demand that it is only passed from Master to one student. The line has continued unbroken since the era of civil wars, I do not intend to break it."

"My son Hideyoshi is a dedicated student, a smart lad. Reads and writes beautifully. Polite lad too, impeccable manners. Knows his place - you wouldn't have to deal with any back talk. Choosing him wouldn't bring any disrespect to your honorable sword style's great legacy…"

"The sword of Mitsurugi is too powerful to teach to just anyone…"

Silence again.

His ears ached badly, but it didn't matter. Old man Asano's boy was that good? Knew manners and reading and writing and was smart?

_…how could he compete against that? _

No one had ever praised him smart, and he didn't know any of the other things Asano-san had listed either. Why had Hiko-san decided to keep him? It didn't make any sense - _just what the swordsman wanted in student?_

A drop of coldness.

"…I am willing to compensate you for teaching my Hideyoshi your craft. A twenty Koku for every single year, a handsome pay truly - worth a true master of the craft."

"I think…"

A sharp pain stabbed his ears, and the boy cried out in panicked distress.

Something wet flowed to his neck, and he pressed his hands to his ears in desperate attempt to ease the pain and curled to his side.

It didn't work – the hurt kept stabbing. _Oh god it hurt!_

He cried softly and curled up tight, trying to ride out the waves of pain. An eternity later it eased to slightly more bearable, and he managed to sit up, finally realizing that there was something wet in his hands. Holding out a hand, he sniffed at it… and licked the odd wetness.

It was blood.

His ears had been bleeding. _Huh..? How could ears bleed? He had never seen anyone bleeding from the ears… _

Dazedly, he pressed his sleeves to his ears, and mopped away the blood. The trickle had stopped almost completely, but his ears still ached. And now that his heart wasn't trying to jump out of his chest anymore in frenzied panic, the boy felt really, really tired.

More tired than he had been in weeks.

Curled to his side, the boy touched the top hidden in the pocket of his sleeve – and knew no more.

* * *

It was perhaps no surprise that the boy woke with a scream from a bad dream. It had ended with the night when old Ine-sama had sold him. He sat up, still panting heavily and feeling all slimy and wet.

He glanced down, lifted the corner of his blanket…

Wetness.

He had wetted the bed.

His eyes widened in shock and his shoulders were shaking when he took a hiccupping inhale. _No. No. This couldn't be happening, not now. _He had no other clothes, no other blanket. Hiko-san was already planning to get rid of him and old man Asano hated him.

He felt like crying.

Sniffled.

_No. Last time this had happened, it was a long, long ago - back when mother had still been alive._ She had just hugged him close to her and they had went together to wash the soiled bedding and clothes. Brothers had mocked him and called him "baby," when they had found out why his bedroll was laid down to dry.

_But. but._

_Mother was not here. _

He couldn't bother Hiko-san, not with this… mother had been mother, but Hiko-san wouldn't ever want him as a student if he knew this. Anyone couldn't know this… but-

Petting comfort feeling.

An image of lake. Washing cloth. Sun. A sense of hurry.

Spirit-friend was right, the boy realized, and took a deep breath. That was what they should do. And there was water close to them, he knew; during yesterday evening, the road had taken them next to the big lake - more water than the eye could see.

So, the boy swallowed and gathered his bedroll to his arms and sneaked off to the shore.

The morning was cold and clammy, and the sky was filled with heavy gray clouds and the sun couldn't be seen through them. The water at the big lake was cold and felt funny. A smell of salt was stronger here.

He scrubbed the bedding desperately, and after wringing it the best he could - laid it to water beaten rocks on the shore. Then, already shivering in coldness, he stripped out of his half wet hakama pants and washed those too. His shirt didn't feel wet… but his sleeves had red stains in them.

_…oh, the blood._

Hiko-san shouldn't know that either. _What could he tell if the swordsman asked where he had gotten the red stains?_ _Nothing, not if he wanted to keep the spirit-friend a secret. _ He washed his face and mopped the side of his neck to be extra safe. At the morning light, the water's surface mirrored enough for him to see that there wasn't that much blood.

Only very little, he frowned judiciously; _it couldn't have been a bad wound, then._

Shivering, and teeth clattering, he stepped out of the water. It was freezing cold and the slight wind made it even worse. How could he get his clothes to dry here?

Heavy steps crunched behind him.

_Oh no, t_he boy turned to look around in panicked disbelief. _No. This can't be happening. No. _

"Odd time to wash your clothing," Hiko-san remarked dryly, his ki feeling cold as usual.

_What could he do? Should he attempt to hide what had happened? _

'Lie,' the spirit whispered. _But mother had said to never lie! Only bad boys lied! _

He tried to keep breathing, hiccupping – _he didn't know what to do! _"I wet the bed," he blurted out - and dropped his gaze immediately to his toes, ashamed.

"I see."

An awkward silence fell.

The boy didn't dare to look at the swordsman, but the silence just seemed to go on and on. Then, Hiko-san said in an odd voice; "I will start the breakfast. We will move out when Asano-san wakes up."

Crunching of sand and stones.

He dared a look up from between his lashes, and saw Hiko-san's turned back and the flapping white cape covering it – just walking away.

_Huh…_

_That was it? No anger, no yelling… no nothing? What did that mean? _The boy thought, and returned to wringing the water out from his clothes as well as he could. _Hiko-san's_ _ki had been cold like usual, and he hadn't called the boy by his name either… just left quickly without saying anything. If anything, the swordsman had been - embarrassed, too._

Did this mean that Hiko-san hated him now?

'Ask,' the spirit suggested.

_But what if it would make the swordsman angrier? _But then again…. he needed to know. This was important, and if Hiko-san was already angry with him, getting him angrier wouldn't matter any.

He nodded to himself – _yes, he would ask, and hadn't the swordsman said that old man Asano was still sleeping?_ So, now was the perfect chance to ask if he was Hiko-san's student or not.

And… what was Hiko-san planning to do in Hiroshima.

The plan decided, the boy gathered his wet clothing in his arms and made the way back to the camp. There, Hiko-san shoved a bowl of rice to his hands and took the wet bundle to hang out to dry near the fire. The boy didn't even have time to think, when his stomach rumbled and let him know that he hadn't eaten in half a day.

Dazedly and out of balance, the boy ate and tried to figure out how to ask the right things. Asking stupid things would only needlessly annoy Hiko-san, and as the swordsman didn't like talking with people much – it made sense to ask only the most important things.

Then, just as he was finally gathering courage to ask, there was a rustle of blankets and a loud yawn from Asano-san's direction.

"Ah! Breakfast is ready!"

The boy bit his lip in disappointment; _no, no… why couldn't the old man have slept longer, so he could have finally asked these things? It was not like he could ask these things from Hiko-san, not while Asano-san was there!_

Disgruntled, the boy resolved to wait for a better moment - maybe tonight?

* * *

Travelling that day wasn't any better than the miserable morning had been; his pants hadn't had time to dry out properly, so he had to walk with damp cloth swishing around his legs feeling all nasty. Old man Asano had looked at him like he was something dirty, when he had seen the wet clothes and blankets. It was like he had known with one look exactly what had happened.

The boy had been really ashamed, it had been even worse than the heavy teasing brothers had bestowed on him so long ago.

To make it even worse was that idle remark to Hiko-san; "A strong and capable lad, eh?"

It reminded the boy of what old Asano had boasted yesterday, about how good his son was. Compared to that-

…_just_ _why had Hiko-san taken him in, again?_

While they were travelling, he kept trying to figure it out, to make some sense of Hiko-san and what he wanted from the boy. But the more he thought about it, the less he understood.

Asano-san's good and perfect boy, who was big and strong and smart and polite…. the boy couldn't even begin to compete against him. After all, he didn't know much about anything, was too small and weak to be of use – _even father had thought so before the sickness!_ And even worse… he was different. People like that mean Samurai spat at the sight of him.

The spirit-friend was of no help, it didn't see things like humans did. It suggested that Asano had lied about his son, and that the boy shouldn't think so lowly of himself. It said that he was a perfectly good student for Hiko-san.

_It just showed that the spirit didn't understand anything if it didn't even see how lacking the boy was. _

Feeling sorry for himself, he didn't even bother watching the other travelers on the road. Somehow, every step he took made him feel more aware that they were getting closer to Hiroshima. During the breakfast, old man Asano had mentioned that they should reach it tomorrow.

He felt like time was running out.

The longer he thought about it, the clearer it became that old Asano-san's perfect son _would be a better student_ to Hiko-san. If the boy could realize it, so could the swordsman - and Hiko-san had said it himself; there was only one master and one student of his sword style at the time.

Hiko-san didn't need the boy and what did people do with the things that they didn't need? _Old Ine-sama had gotten a child she didn't need… but she did need money. Like Hiko-san. _

The steps felt heavier and there was something in his throat making it harder to breathe.

* * *

The morning had been embarrassing and bad, the day… full of doubts and fears. But now that they were at the evening meal – it was the last chance the boy had to ask Hiko-san what he intended to do at Hiroshima.

This he needed to know more than anything else, because… he felt he owed something to Hiko-san, _who had taken the boy with him, given him a name, and cleaned his wounds. Hiko-san who had given the boy his shirt to sleep in… even when he had no spare, and had been something like a steady rock in the boy's life these past couple weeks, when he had nothing and was lost._

So.

The boy needed to know what was going to happen, and the spirit-friend agreed.

It didn't matter that old man Asano was there and looking at him again like he wasn't supposed to be there bothering adults. _It didn't matter because… the time was running out._

Bracing himself, the boy said hesitantly, "Hiko-san."

"What is it, boy?"

_Boy - not Kenshin. A boy. Boy was not a person… _

"What are you going to do in Hiroshima?" _There. He had done it! _Old man Asano's face was twisted in scowl for the bad manners of a child speaking to an adult so directly, and Hiko-san frowned at him and his ki dropped a shade colder.

"I am going to buy and restock supplies," he replied.

_I. Hiko-san had said I, not we._ The boy's heart beat harder in his chest, breathing was becoming harder and his hands shook.

_No. No. It wasn't possible…_

"Supplies?" he managed to stutter. _Hiko-san was going buy things. Buy. Buying needed money. Hiko-san didn't have a lot of money. _

"Food, clothing. The snowfall is coming."

_That was it. It was going to happen. Hiko-san was going to do as old Ine-sama had done. He needed to get away. Away. Now! _

"What a disrespectful lad, a fine sword master such as you, should…" Old man Asano's voice drawled-

The boy didn't know what he said to get away from the camp fire, but the next thing he noticed, were his shaking hands struggling to tie the bedroll into a neat bundle for carrying. He managed it with a few missteps, and slipped inside the roll his remaining food, the despised dried fish. Making sure that he had his precious top and water jug… yes, he had everything.

_Away, fast, he needed to get away – before he would be sold again._

With that, he slipped into the night.

* * *

Hiko scowled at Asano, barely tolerating the old merchant's constant yapping. The boy's ki felt distressed in the distance; _what on earth was going on with the kid?_ It wouldn't be long before they would be rid of the annoying old merchant that kept going on about his fourth son, who would be just perfect for sword training, and how impressed the merchant was with him and his sword-style.

It was like a salivating dog seeing a bone and trying to find a way to get it.

Of course Hiko knew why the old man kept insisting; the strength of Hiten Mitsurugi swordsmanship was obvious to even a blind man and for a merchant family, such power was useful beyond words. Especially as the boy offered for training was the _fourth son_, the one not needed for continuing family business and one too far in inheritance line to be of use for furthering the family unions. Such blatant opportunistic attitude was disgusting, but so far he hadn't managed to find a way to deter Asano tactfully.

But annoying or not, the old merchant was still needed to pay for the completed job, so there wasn't much to be done about it. Hiko had tried to stay as far away as possible from the old man while travelling, but at evening meals that hadn't been an option, and he had been left with firm and polite refusals.

_An almost hopeless task, truly. _

It wouldn't be such an issue, but for the fact that dealing with Asano left the boy somewhat neglected. It was the lesser of two evils, but still detrimental for Hiko's plans for the boy. Another such sour decision was allowing Asano to keep bossing his apprentice around to do chores. It would keep the boy lodged too deeply in slavering obedience and wouldn't help the kid to develop independent thinking, but on the other hand, it worked well to keep the boy from listening Asano's tedious and fairly insulting persuasions.

The old merchant's problem with the foreigners was a little bit over the top, but it was a fairly common attitude, especially among the older folk. In any case, Asano was tactful enough not to voice his issues in front of the boy. Gods only knew that the boy would take all that crap to heart, not being old enough yet to have learned to ignore such attitudes.

Regarding the boy though, Hiko was becoming worried for his apprentice's mental state. It was clear that the kid had trouble sleeping, and not even Asano could snore uninterrupted through the kid's nightmares. It was unclear, what he could do about them but to let them pass on their own, after all – it was how he dealt with his own nightly horrors. But the living memory episode with the bandits, and now waking up screaming and wetting the bed, it all indicated that the boy's issues were becoming a problem that needed to be resolved or at least dealt with.

However, Hiko was hopeful that the boy was becoming better. Today the boy had finally gathered courage to initiate a conversation. A positive sign, one that Hiko hadn't wanted to make a big deal of for the fear of scaring the kid more, but it had been one of his miserable week's best developments. When the kid lost his courage halfway through, Hiko hadn't been surprised and had let the kid retire early. Staying behind, he kept fighting the desire to strangle Asano, but couldn't see any polite way to excuse himself from the situation either.

It was only sometime later that Hiko calmed down, and realized that he couldn't feel Kenshin's familiar, flowing ki anywhere. _What on earth?_

Asano was still yapping about training, sons and swordsmanship.

"Quiet," Hiko ordered firmly. It was hard to focus through the constant noise, and he should be able to feel that quiet spiritual aura from quite a distance…

Asano's mouth fell open in outrage, but the man fell silent.

A triple check later, and the results were still same. Either the boy had suddenly developed an ability to mask his presence – a feat that even the skilled users of spiritual manipulation would be hard pressed to copy – or… he simply was not there.

_Neither _of the options made any sense.

"I need to go check on the boy. Please, forgive me this rudeness." He told Asano, bowed slightly and left. _It wouldn't do to anger his meal ticket when a little politeness could ease the way._

He took time to check the surroundings of the merchant wagon first, knowing that the boy had taken to sleeping there. The physical check gave the predictable results; no kid to be found and more worryingly even the kid's bedroll was missing from the spot he could recall Kenshin leaving it to.

_What had happened?_

There had been no one near the camp – that, he was absolutely sure of. No matter how distracted he was, he would have noticed foreign presences nearing, or at least hear or seen something suspicious. There hadn't been a sense of fright from the boy either… just that general sense of distress that was so common with Kenshin.

So no, he hadn't slipped up in his guard duties, thank you very much. _But that left… _

Hiko frowned, _but why would the boy leave out of his own volition? _

Searching his memories of the evening, there was nothing worth a mention. The boy had been jumpier today, yes – but it could have as well been from the harsh night before and the morning episode with the bedwetting.

_Leaving, especially now that they were nearly in Hiroshima… made no sense. _

He had to find the boy, and get some answers. _Damned if he would let it end like this._ It wasn't long since Hiko had seen the kid, and with those short legs – the boy couldn't have gone far.

Where to though? The kid couldn't be stupid enough to go into the woods, not at night. So that left the road, which way though?

To, or away from Hiroshima?

If he was distressed and running away, where he would go? _Away from the people, obviously. _Hikoscoffed, but the kid was not him, where would the boy go?

Damn it all.

He couldn't even begin to guess, but there were only two choices. If just he knew the kid's motives, picking the odds would be easy. Standing on the road, and grimacing he couldn't help thinking; _had he truly fallen so low? Playing guessing games without any facts? _

The odds, the motives… none of it mattered.

He was fast.

Checking both directions was well within his capabilities.

* * *

The boy was stumbling in the dark, eyes wet with tears, and kept trying to breathe. _He was a big boy and big boys don't cry… _but it felt so overwhelmingly bad.

_His hopes, hesitating dreams, not being alone…_

The spirit tried to comfort him, but for some reason it made the boy feel even worse. Just now comfort was the _last_ thing he wanted.

He just wanted to be alone.

_Alone. _

Alone, so that no one could try to sell him. It couldn't hurt so much to be alone either, and he wouldn't have to see how people didn't like him.

Falling every now and then in the darkness, he trudged forward as fast as he could away from Hiroshima. The thick clouds didn't let much moonlight shine through, but it didn't matter. He hurt too much to be scared of the dark anymore.

He didn't know how long he had been walking, when he heard steps from behind him and then… _a familiar feel of coldness._

_No._

No, no… He swallowed, and didn't turn to look behind him but said, "I won't be sold again."

A silence.

"Never again. Even… -a hiccup- …even if you need money to buy things for winter, and you can get better student in Asano's son."

"So that was it, huh." Hiko's deep voice was bland, and the boy didn't know what it meant. Then the swordsman continued; "Why do you think that I would take Asano's son as my student?"

The boy didn't dare to look back, for some reason it felt easier to talk like this, and began to list; "Because he is bigger and stronger and smarter. Polite. Obedient. He knows how to read and write-"

He paused to draw a deep breath, and continued more frantically; "I heard Asano-san! His son is so much better than me! And he is not ugly and weird like me! Asano's son is not a 'foreigner'!" he finally spat out the last word like he would say a bad word.

It felt good to say those things out loud and get them away from his chest.

"Huh."

_What did that mean? The swordsman didn't make any sense! Surely Hiko-san should be doing or saying or yelling something? This… nothing was– _

He almost wanted to speak bad words, or to yell at the swordsman just to fill the silence. But no matter what, he just couldn't be angry at Hiko-san.

_He just didn't know what to do!_

But, it had felt good to speak his thoughts out loud, so he continued; "…I understand why you would rather take Asano's son as your student. I won't think badly of you for it. But just… let me go. Don't sell me!"

"You are an idiot, Kenshin." Hiko-san finally said.

The boy paused, feeling numb all over for surprise. _'Idiot.'_ _Idiot was a bad word. But, but Hiko-san had said his name..?_

"You think too much, but don't think enough to ask. You assume and let your fears guide you."

_…what? _

"I am not going to sell you. I am not going to take Asano's son as my student."

A scoff, and then Hiko-san began to feel warmer.

"The Hiten Mitsurugi style is only used by two; the master and the student. The second time I met you, I told you that I will teach you."

The boy's heart beat rabbit fast... but it felt easier to breathe.

"I am Hiko Seijuuro the 13th. I will honor my word. I have no need to lie."

A stepping sound, and the boy looked over his shoulder - Hiko-san was walking towards him, the moonlight shining brightly on his white cloak and making him look like a spirit or a demon from the children's tales.

"I claimed you, boy - gave you a name. You are Kenshin, my student and I won't let you go."

It was like something broke in the boy, and he sniffled.

Took a step.

Another.

And then he ran to Hiko-san and hugged the swordsman's legs with all his strength.

Hiko-san let him cry, patting his back a few times and then stroked his hair.

_It felt good to cry._

* * *

When all the tears had finally fallen, the boy let go of Hiko-san's legs and dried his eyes with his sleeve.

"You alright, boy?"

The boy swallowed, and bit his lip before coming in to a resolution and hesitantly asking; "Kenshin. My name is Kenshin. You gave it to me. Could you use it, please?"

He didn't dare to look up, just waited out the silence.

Hiko-san didn't feel cold or angry, so he finally dared a covert look up through his lashes. The swordsman's brow was raised in question. So, the boy tried to explain: "People, who are respected have names. Slaves don't. No one but mother and Kasumi has called me by my name. Old Ine-sama didn't."

The boy paused and took a deep breath.

"I will call you whatever you want me to call you, but I want to be called by my name in return." He offered, sounding surer of himself because Hiko-san still didn't feel angry.

A scoff.

"Traditionally the student calls his teacher "Master" …Kenshin."

The boy looked up, and a hopeful smile began to tug his lips. Hiko-san shook his head, turned and began to walk away.

Hiko-san.

No.

Master.

Then the boy, no… Kenshin called it out loud, testing:

"Yes, Master."

_It felt right._


	8. Out of the frying pan into the fire

Chapter 7. Out of the frying pan into the fire

They arrived in the city of Hiroshima the next day. Kenshin had never seen so many people in the same place before, and he had been a bit overwhelmed at first… but then his inherent curiosity in new things had won over. Master had just told him to stay close, but had answered the occasional question without much grumbling.

When they arrived to old man Asano's house, the merchant had paid the wage as promised. However, before they had managed to leave, old man Asano had introduced his son, Hideyoshi, to Master. The swordsman had been polite during the introduction and short discussion, and then had glanced at Kenshin from the corner of his eye and raised his brow in a silent question.

Hideyoshi was tall and strong, yes. He seemed like a nice person, really, and under other circumstances Kenshin would have been even glad to befriend the boy. However, right at that moment, he felt terribly inadequate in comparison and couldn't help a staggering wave of pure jealousy that swept over him. _If he was tall and strong like Hideyoshi, he could have helped Kasumi, he wouldn't have been left alone, would have been never sold… _or if all that had to happen, then at least he wouldn't have to wonder just why Master had chosen him, of all people, as his only apprentice? No matter the swordsman's earlier speech about keeping his word, not needing to lie_ – any of it didn't make any more sense now than it had earlier, but then again… maybe it didn't need to? _

Master had acknowledged him, had chosen him… and had _kept his word._ Because of that Kenshin wasn't afraid anymore. So, he swallowed, fought down his own jealousy and uncertainty and carefully ignored all the spirit friend's angry mutters and dark feelings towards Asano-san's son.

It must have been one of the most difficult things he had done, to nod in answer to Master's silent question.

_To choose to trust, to dismiss the fears._

But when they left the compound together... he started to breathe easier. Like with every step there was a weight lifting away from his shoulders.

It wasn't a long travel from there to the city proper, and as the first order of business, Master asked directions to a swordsmith. He tugged the swordsman's sleeve in silent question, not quite knowing how to ask with words. Thankfully, Master seemed to understand him just fine, and remarked dryly; "What else were you going to begin practicing with? A wooden stick? No. You will need a proper sword."

And that was that.

Now he was carrying a real sword tugged through his belt. It felt heavy and hit against his shin every now and then; especially when he turned too fast, or took a bit too long a step. To make it more awkward, it seemed to get tangled at his wide pant legs quite often and bump into things or people.

However, none of that mattered because _it was his sword _and_ the best _thing he had ever been given.

At the smithy, the craftsman had been surprised that Master would want to buy a real sword for him for some reason, but had finally relented to Hiko-san insistence and allowed them to test the blades until they found a suitable one. Master had finally chosen to buy him a used wakizashi, a short sword that had been brought to the smithy for repair some years back. Master said that it was a blade he could grow into, but was short enough for him to work with already.

Kenshin hadn't yet had a time to properly admire his sword, because after that Master taken him to buy warmer clothes for winter. He now had a new shirt, pants, really warm and odd fur boots, ugly hat and heavy mittens. All of these were now rolled inside his blanket adding to its bulk. He had never owned this much stuff in his life, and somehow… there was this lingering doubt that kept whispering;_ you cannot be this lucky, cannot have this much - you are not allowed. _

But Master had bought it all for him, and made it clear that all of it was needed, so maybe it was okay. And considering what had happened the last time…

_'Kenshin, you are an idiot-' _

So, he decided to ignore the creeping doubts, and imagined to stomp on them for a good measure. And then he wiped his hands, and got a questioning look from Master for his silliness. He smiled innocently back to the swordsman, getting a scoff in return.

_Maybe, they were both learning… _he thought happily andit made him feel even better.

Thus, when they were buying food supplies, the boy dared to tug at Master's sleeve to get his attention before he paid the first price the vendor lady asked. Master apologized for the interruption to the vendor and then followed him to the side, where he demanded an explanation.

"No one pays the first price. You are supposed to haggle. It's a game." Kenshin explained Master frantically, hoping not to cause disappointment… _but it was important and Master had already used so much money on him. _And, if he could be of help, he shouldn't doubt himself.

Master had looked at him surprised, and had raised a corner of his lips, then said; "I suppose you would know about haggling. Alright, you do have a point. Thank you, Kenshin."

Right then, that pure approval made the boy – Kenshin - feel so proud that his heart had been about to burst. _He had done well! _

Master had then returned to the vendor and started a long bout of haggling and during it, the swordsman's coldness had spiked every now and then. But the deal was closed properly, without too many swearwords or a further incident.

Afterwards, Hiko-san asked Kenshin: "So. How did I do?"

The boy thought about it, then smiled. "Good." And after a moment's pause, dared to add; "But she won."

Master stared at him, the coldness freezing to stillness…

The whispering doubts were screaming at Kenshin that _he had been too rude, had gone over the limit… _

But then, Hiko-san had scoffed, shaken his head - and ruffled Kenshin's hair.

* * *

After that, they hadn't stayed in the city long. Master had said that it was because living in the cities was expensive, but the boy thought that it was because of all the people. So, they were travelling again and now that there wasn't anything to slow Master down, the swordsman set the pace fast. It made Kenshin tire out quickly and they had to take breaks every now and then, when he just couldn't continue. But when he had asked about it, Master said that it was good for training.

On top of all the walking, Master had him practicing basic sword strikes with his new blade every morning and evening, after the meals. It was just a simple straight strike to the head, and after repeating it time after time the boy couldn't help wondering how useful it could be. After all, he had never seen anyone to use it. Finally, when he had dared to ask, Master admitted that it wasn't a very practical move in fights, but it was an important first step as it would teach him to hold the blade in the right way and would help him to learn the 'correct posture'.

After training Master would draw pictures to the ground with a stick and tell what it meant. Then he would have the boy repeat it until he got it right. It was a little bit silly, but Master said that it was important – and when Kenshin learned that it would lead to knowing how to read and write, just like old man Asano's brilliant son, he didn't mind it at all.

One morning, Kenshin asked how his name was written. Master showed him and told that it was built from two pictures; "heart" and "sword".

A good name, Kenshin thought judiciously and stared at the two scribbled pictures on the ground. Curious, he then asked about his former name. Master obliged and drew it, warning him that it might not be the correct one, there were apparently many possibilities, but the most likely was; "heart" and "big".

There wasn't much difference between the two, Kenshin decided. The only real difference was that now even his name told that he had a sword and was learning to use it. It was fitting in a way, and somehow… made the new name feel more like his.

The reading and writing practice became a daily routine for them. It was even fun most of the time, although there seemed to be so many pictures. _Almost stupid, really - how could anyone remember all of them?_ Master had scoffed at him, and told him that no one could, and most people remembered only the most common ones.

_But that meant… most of the people couldn't read or write very well? Why would they write like that?_ It just didn't make sense that no one hadn't made up a simpler way.

Not that he dared to say any of this aloud, especially after Master told him how 'intelligent and educated' people spent years learning to write the words, and how it was 'perfection in the motion' to see beautifully written words and how 'calligraphy represented the best virtues'.

It all seemed to matter a lot to Master.

So Kenshin decided to give it his best effort. And in truth, the word-pictures were kind of pretty once he got used to them. Not that impossible to remember either, once he realized that the lines came to look a bit like a picture the word represented.

The time they travelled was still spent in silence. Master seemed to enjoy the quiet and because of all the lessons, the boy thought that it was okay to give him some peace. It wasn't like the boy had no one to talk with; after all, spirit-friend was always there.

So, weeks went by. The last leaves left the trees and it was becoming colder to sleep outside. The boy had taken to wearing both of his shirts at nights. The nightmares hadn't bothered him much anymore, now that he was so tired every night.

All in all, it was almost nice, living like this.

They had crossed another border post and started towards the mountains. Climbing was hard work for the boy, and it was there that the first snowfall had finally come. The boy had seen snow before, of course; he had been born near a mountain and the snowfall had been given thing every winter.

However, Kenshin had never tried to sleep outside in the winter.

Master said that it wasn't nice, but it could be done. So, he showed the boy how to stomp the snow and how find stuff under the bed roll to insulate it. He showed Kenshin how to build small walls from snow to protect against the wind and to keep warmth better… and how to sleep while sitting up. It was still cold, even after the boy wore all of his clothes throughout the day. After some grumblings, he started to wear his most hated piece of clothing too; the new knitted hat. Against the freezing coldness it didn't matter that it was ugly and awkward, felt odd on his ears or that it was too big and fell to cover his eyes every now and then.

Then it got even colder, and none of his new clothes were enough to stop him shivering. Those nights Master said it was okay if the boy wanted to sleep next to him. And he did – under the odd white cloak and Hiko-san's large arm, it was safe and warm to sleep.

The winter weather made the camping different too. Usually they had just made the camp on the road side, and in the autumn it had even been practical. Why should they waste time and effort to seek better shelter? But with heavy snowfall or during particularly nasty wind, the open roadsides just weren't enough and Master would build some cover from the conifer branches or would try to find a cave or a hollow in the mountain side.

They had also taken to travelling longer. The boy hadn't protested, because walking kept him warmer, but the snow covered roads were slippery and harder to walk, so the travel pace slowed down. They would stop to rest, when the boy couldn't continue anymore and start travelling again when he felt fit enough for it. During the days master would give him dried meat to chew on. He wasn't used to walking and eating at the same time, and it was odd – almost silly, but he learned the trick to it fast enough. What was weird though, was how he ate and ate a lot more than usual, but he would never feel full.

Walking in the snow all day long was… weird. He had to lift his feet higher and the roads were mostly upslope – it was making him to tire out easily. Or maybe it was the cold. No matter what he did, it was always so cold.

It wasn't a surprise that some time later, his nose started to run. It had happened every winter back home and Mother had kept him indoors then… but it wasn't odd or dangerous. Just annoying. So, he was constantly sniffling and wiping the snot to his sleeves. His lips felt raw and chapped and the skin under his nose was tender; the snot oozing down to it stung, but wiping it away hurt more.

What was surprising, however, was when after a particularly nasty night, he wasn't cold any more. Nothing about the weather had changed, but for some reason, he was sweating. He told about it to Master, who took a good look at him, touched his brow and said a really bad word, his ki feeling really, really odd. Then Master lifted him to his arms, and it was almost nice to fall asleep, resting his head against Master's shoulder.

* * *

After leaving Hiroshima, Hiko had chosen to wander to north. He wasn't sure what to do about the winter. These past three years that he had been by himself on the road, he had just travelled through the winter and played it by the ear. If the weather had taken a bad turn, he had found a safe spot to tide over the worst. In a way, travelling in the winter season was almost a blessing, for it was sure to take his mind away from the memories. Then it was just him and the nature.

Surviving.

It helped him to remember that people were just a tiny part of the world and their worries didn't matter much in the larger scale, thus making all his regrets and horrors settle into a manageable scope.

But he was not travelling alone anymore - now he had an apprentice. Regardless of the rocky start, Kenshin was proving to be almost a pleasure to teach; he learned fast and didn't need much instruction. And the way the kid had taken the blade, almost like a fish that had been put to water and had realized it could swim! The correct grip, the delicate movements that guided the blade, the right footwork – he needed to give just an example and occasional correction, and Kenshin could keep it up and perform every strike like it was supposed to.

It was almost odd, gods knew that most men would become lazy with the boring repetitions and start to prefer one hand over other, move their point of balance… never understanding the necessity of performing the exercises in the exact way and thus forging the motions to the muscle memory.

But Kenshin never faltered.

The little waif just kept to the correct motions and did the repeats until he told the boy to quit for the night. Either it meant that the kid was a natural or a perfectionist. At this point, it was hard to say which – the taught motions were simple, and Hiko wasn't about to start pushing the kid too fast just to satisfy his curiosity.

And in any case, both were very positive traits.

Another thing to be pleased about was how the reading and writing lessons were shaping up. Hiko had many issues about teaching such basics, especially when the subject was one he personally cared much about. With his memory and how the calligraphy had been one of the few good things from his youth before the sword, he hadn't been very enthusiastic about seeing a child to mangle the carefully choreographed motions he still found comfort in. But to his surprise, especially considering the lack of teaching materials, the boy had proven to have a good eye for letters and remembered the words fairly easily.

During those evening exercises, they had also had some good discussions and Kenshin had slowly been breaking out of his muteness and started talking more.

Occasionally even asking questions unprompted!

However, after listening to the boy talk and ask questions freely, he had begun to understand that Kenshin's mind worked in decidedly odd ways. The kid would occasionally ask questions that even he didn't know an answer for; such as about spirits, or even more oddly, about memories stored in walls, of all the things…

Hmmph, kids!

But all in all, they had fallen into a comfortable rhythm. It was almost pleasant.

These past years he had been on the road, the winter had been a hard season to travel and usually only the desperate or the foolish dared to risk the road then. Hiko was neither, but had rather taken a likening to the solitude and the challenge the winter offered for traveler. But now that he had Kenshin… it was becoming clear that he would need to figure out other options.

The snowfall was unusually late this year, even though it was nearing the last weeks of the year, the air was still moist and there hadn't even been night frost. It was an indication that the winter should prove to be exceptionally mild, so Hiko decided to risk it and head to the western coast. He could find some suitable work in some town or village, and they could wait out the coldest months. The lowlands would be good for finding bodyguard jobs and the Izumo prefecture was particularly lax about Ronin, there would be no issues with overly sensitive Samurai… unlike in Aki.

So, a plan in mind he chose the road through the mountains. If the weather would continue to hold, they wouldn't even have to suffer through any snow.

_Of course_ it wasn't to be.

The first snow fell before they were even halfway through the mountains. If he could have hit himself for stupidity, he would have. _Damn his best laid plans and stubborn pride. _

It was clear from early on that Kenshin couldn't handle the bad weather like him. It was no wonder, now that he stopped to think about it - he was a healthy adult man at his peak, and Kenshin was… a scrawny child, and so very thin. But no matter the circumstances, it was just as long way back at that point, so he just carried on; never letting his worries show, just handling the situation the best he could. He tried to find good places to make camp, gave the kid dried meat to chew on to keep strength up while they walked, showed Kenshin how to handle the cold weather and occasionally on really cold nights even invited the badly shivering child to sleep next to him.

So they managed.

Survived the weather and nature.

They were almost done with the mountains, when the kid started sniffling and then the exhaustion caused by little sleep and long days of walking finally caught up with him.

The fewer had risen.

Hiko cursed and picked the kid up, and hurried to find help. _Screw his pride, screw his plans, and screw his arrogance_ - there was no time and there was no questioning the need – the fever could kill.

* * *

The boy woke up to faint clattering sounds. It was warm, warm for the first time in forever, but still _everything hurt_… and more importantly, he was thirsty.

His eyes felt like they had been dried shut, and opening them was difficult, but after a few tries he managed. Huh, there was a ceiling.

_A ceiling!_

When had he last seen a _ceiling from_ _the inside_?

"Oh you are finally awake! Here drink this." A kind, soft voice called out, and then somebody was lifting him to sit up. Something warm and tasty was poured into his mouth. He tried to swallow – coughed - _why was drinking hard?_

Someone was wiping his face with a cloth.

"Just try to drink. It will help you feel better. You have been very sick."

The kind voice had been so nice and calm that it was easy to stop thinking and _just obey_.

Drinking was slow going, but he managed to get most of the broth swallowed.

He felt so tired. Everything hurt.

"Just sleep."

* * *

"He is getting better finally. I managed to get him to drink some broth earlier, so the worst should be over now. He should eat it as much he can, really. He is terribly thin."

"Was he coherent?"

"As much as could be expected. He didn't speak, didn't even try."

"That's not surprising. Kenshin rarely speaks unprompted."

"Is there something wrong with him?"

"No. The boy is just shy around strangers."

"Oh… that explains it. Some children can be wary of new adults like that. But really, what possessed you to take a risk like that! Going through the mountains in the middle of winter! With a child, no less!"

"My reasons are my own. However, I thank you for your concern and your hospitality."

"Forgive me my rudeness. It's not my place to question your reasons. But please, I cannot in good conscience let you go out there again. It will be a certain death to you and to that child, and this year has seen enough death."

"True. However, I couldn't impose upon your generosity."

"By all means, please do." Laughter. "I could use the company."

"I cannot offer much as compensation for your kindness…"

"Keep your compensation. I have plenty, but it's the company and conversation I lack. And strong arms too, to help out with a chore or two."

"I will, of course, offer you my assistance where you need it."

"Then it's settled."

* * *

Next time the boy woke, it was dark.

He really had to pee.

He tried to rise, but it hurt. His arms shook against his weight and his legs felt more like limp grass. _How could he walk like this? Where should he even go? _

"What is it?" Master's voice called.

"I need to get to the outhouse," the boy explained, embarrassed. _Maybe if he waited, the kind voice would be back…_

A rustle. Someone rising. Steps.

"All right, up we go," Master said and lifted him to stand. The boy's legs shook and didn't feel steady at all.

"Can you walk?"

"I don't think so," he admitted.

"It's too cold out for you. Just use the bucket there and lean on me."

Eyes wide and blood rushing to his cheeks, the boy stared in mortification at the large shape in darkness. _He couldn't… but, but… the kind voice wasn't there and Master was and his legs didn't feel sturdy enough and he really had to pee. _

So he swallowed, and nodded, then hesitantly leaned on to the swordsman and started to walk slowly, like his legs had forgotten how to work properly…

Afterwards, Master helped him back to the bed and tucked a blanket back on him.

"Just try to sleep."

He was too tired to complain or to ask questions, and it was really nice and warm and dark and…

* * *

Rustle. Odd low ticking sounds, like something hit together in a steady clip. Breathing?

_Someone was next to him?_

The ticking continued and it was almost nice to listen to it, but after a while curiosity won and Kenshin opened his eyes slowly, turned his head a bit.

A person… a woman was sitting next to him.

She was doing something with her hands, no, with wooden sticks that she hit together to make that noise. There was yarn surrounding the sticks… _she was weaving it together? _

Fascinated, never having seen such a thing, he stared. Not that he had seen the woman before either, but she didn't feel threatening. Her spirit felt - _soft and very faint, like lukewarm water? _

_Where was he, anyway? _Inside a house, yes, with a woman he didn't know, and she was doing something odd that he didn't know what it was either. Feeling at loss, but disinclined to move or to ask from this strange person… that left, the better option, really.

'Hey, what happened?' He asked the spirit.

It answered fast, sending back a feeling of confusion, then words; 'Alone. Long time.' Then, concern and an enquiring feeling.

_The spirit didn't know either? _He had been sick, that he was pretty sure of. Master had helped him, tucked him into bed… Yes. He had definitely been sick.

_Why couldn't he remember more? _

A wave of panic struck him and he couldn't he but to ask out loud the most important thing; "Where is Master?" Or at least he intended to ask those words, but his try ended up producing only an odd wheezing sound. His throat was dry and even frantic swallowing didn't help out much.

"Oh, you are wake! How are you feeling?" The woman asked in return, letting the sticks fall down from her hands and turned to him.

She had brown eyes, and a kind face which was startlingly not covered in lines – not old like the village doctors' – like Ine-sama's had been.

"Tired." The boy answered, confused. _It was easier to answer than to ask. But… he had to know, so; _"Master?"

"Oh, you mean your handsome young guardian, Hiko-san? He is outside, waving around that sword of his."

The feeling of relief was almost overwhelming. _He hadn't been left behind._

_So she said, but what if…_

He just had to be sure, so he tried to feel the Master's coldness. It wasn't very hard and he had been practicing it during the travelling times, so he should be able to know for sure if he concentrated… There was the strange woman, further away… nothing? But there… there it was! The sharp coldness – just on the edge of his ability to feel, but definitely there.

The boy sighed, and relaxed.

"Are you hungry?" The strange woman asked.

He was about to nod, but she wasn't looking at him, rather she was looking at the woven mess of yarn and the sticks that held it together… so he managed a faint; "Yes."

"Wait a moment, I will warm up some broth for you."

The boy lay back down and watched the strange woman to putter around the cooking area of the hut. She poured something to the kettle, and set it to warm up on the fire crackling softly in the center of the house.

_If Master had left him here and was just outside… the strange woman could be trusted_, he thought, relaxed and then looked around curiously.

The house was small, with a simple dirt floor. At the sides, straw mats covered the ground. The walls were made out of wood, just like his old home had been, not out of packed mud or stone. The roof was made out of straw too. There were some belongings and rolled up bedding near the wall. The fire heart in the middle kept it all warm.

All in all, it felt homey.

It was weird being inside a house, he decided after a while. It had been such a long time. But what made it even weirder, was how it was very similar to the houses back home. So alike that it could almost be one of them, just another house in the village near the mountain. _Not possible, though._ He wasn't sure where his old home _was_, but it definitely hadn't been up north where Master had led them.

The broth in the kettle smelled really good, and somehow… smelling it made him realize how very hungry he was. The loud growling noise his stomach let out attested to that, immediately. So, he tried to sit up and did manage it by himself after some struggle.

Kenshin smiled in triumph at this proof that he wasn't quite as weak as he had been.

The strange woman took the kettle from fire and poured the broth to a bowl, then gave it to him with the words; "You should eat it all. There is more, if you can manage."

The boy nodded, and drank a tiny sip – it was really good, he realized with widening eyes. He didn't think he had ever tasted anything so good. So hastily slurping it down as fast as he could, he didn't mind that it was still hot; scorching on his tongue and throat, in fact, but in a good way.

It warmed him up completely.

The fire crackled merrily in the background while the strange woman watched him and smiled. Then he was done, and gave her the bowl back with a sheepish smile.

"Do you want more?"

He tilted his head, and thought about it. It had been so good… but his stomach felt full to the bursting point. _Maybe he could manage some more? _

"No. Thank you," he finally said, avoiding her eyes and playing with the edge of his blanket.

"You sure?"

He nodded.

A frown in answer.

She seemed so disappointed, and for some reason, seemed to demand more for an answer, so; "It was really good, but I don't think I can eat more."

"All right, if you say so. But you should try to eat as much as you can. You are terribly thin."

_Huh? But he had always been like this…_ but he nodded in answer anyway.

Steps outside, clanking sounds.

_What..? _

_…oh, it was Master - _he could recognize that coldness anywhere.

Then the door opened and cold air flowed in.

"Close the door! And do come in, your ward is awake at last." Her voice seemed happy, and she tilted her head to the side, baring little bit of neck and swept her hair behind her ear.

Master had a funny look on his face, but he didn't feel angry, rather the swordsman seemed… careful and cautious? _Master, cautious?_ But the swordsman nodded at the woman, face very still and ki oddly small and tight, then glanced at the boy, and; "I apologize. Kenshin, you had me worried for a while."

_An apology? And that odd feel… _Never before had Master looked or behaved like that_, what did it mean?_

While he had been staring at the swordsman in growing alarm, the strange woman had taken the wooden sticks back into her hands and started weaving the yarn again, only sound being the steady ticking. Master kicked the last of the snow from his shoes, and barred the door firmly shut. He didn't look at the woman at all; instead he laid his sword to lean next to the wall, shook out his cloak… then settled down next to the fire, pointedly on the opposite side from the woman.

Kenshin couldn't help but stare.

Master kept a distance from the woman, and avoided looking at her… almost like he was waiting her to suddenly attack or something. And at the same time, the strange woman was behaving more like Master usually would: being sure of herself, giving orders and expecting people to obey immediately. She just sat there calmly, doing just as she pleased.

_It was really weird. _

And suddenly, the strange lady didn't seem so nice and kind anymore. _Just how dangerous could she be if even Master was afraid of her? _

_No, not afraid_, he decided after a brief contemplation. Master could win against a group of bandits, he wouldn't be afraid of a single woman - but there was something not right with the situation either. He didn't know what to think, didn't know anything, really; like where they were, how had they gotten here or who the strange woman even was.

_Would it be okay to ask? _But it was so silent and tense, that it didn't feel okay to speak, but maybe now that Master was here…

Kenshin glanced at the woman, and then back to Master. Tilted his head, waiting.

Master saw it, paused… then cleared his throat; "Kenshin, this is Osumi-san. She has agreed to let us stay until you are better."

"No. The agreement was that you would stay until the roads were clear. So Hiko-san and you, dear child, will be staying here for a while." The woman - Osumi-san - smiled brightly at Master and then looked back at the boy, nodding firmly like it was decided.

_Just like that?_

Never stopping the weaving, she continued decisively; "In any case, it would be madness for you to go back to travelling until the roads clear out."

Master glanced at her, frowned… but _didn't disagree._

_Had the world gone crazy while he had been sick?_


End file.
